Wisconsin Folklore [1 ed.] 9780299160333, 9780299160302

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Wisconsin Folklore

Wisconsin Folklore Edited by

James P. Leary

THE UNIVERSITY OF WISCONSIN PRESS

The University of Wisconsin Press 1930 Monroe Street Madison, Wisconsin 53711 3 Henrietta Street London WC2E 8LU, England www.wisc.edu\wisconsinpress Copyright © 1998 The Board of Regents of the University of Wisconsin System All rights reserved 2

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Printed in the United States of America

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Leary, James P. Wisconsin folklore I edited by James P. Leary. 560 pp. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0-299-16030-0 (cloth: alk. paper). ISBN 0-299-16034-3 (pbk.: alk. paper) 1. Folklore-Wisconsin. 2. Wisconsin-Social life and customs. I. Title. 1998 GRII0.W5lA3 98-16371 398.2'09775-dc21

For Janet

CONTENTS

Illustrations Preface Introduction: On Wisconsin Folklore

Xl XV

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Part One. Terms and Talk 1.

The Significance of Manitowoc E. P. Wheeler

33

2.

Names in the Welsh Settlement Charles T. Roberts

36

3.

German Nicknames of Places in Early Dodge County C. H. Bachhuber

40

4.

Deutsche Sprichworter: German Sayings in Milwaukee Louis Pierron

42

5.

Milwaukee Talk The Grenadiers

49

6.

Ten Thousand Swedes: Reflections on a Folklore Motif Peter Munch

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7.

Characters on the Chippewa Waters Gregg Montgomery

72

8.

The Brewing Industry Charles Brown

80

9.

Apple-Picking Terms from Wisconsin Frederic G. Cassidy

85

10.

Farm Talk from Marathon County Roger Mitchell

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11.

Application to Live in Northern Wisconsin (North of Highway 29) Anonymous

VB

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Contents

Part Two. Storytelling 12.

Turtle Getting Credit (A Tale) Paul Radin

13.

Ojibwe Stories from Northern Wisconsin Dee Bainbridge, Ojibwe Storyteller James P. Leary The Stories of Keith Wilmer Alissa Matlack

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122 134

14.

Legends of Paul Bunyan, Lumberjack K. Bernice Stewart and Homer A. Watt

139

15.

Ghost Stories (As Told by Old Settlers) Thor Helgeson

149

16.

Gamroth the Strong Harriet Pawlowska

159

17.

George Russell: The Repertoire and Personality of a North Country Storyteller James P. Leary

18.

Finnish Folktales Walter Jackola

19.

Woods and Waters Hunting and Fishing E. E. LeMasters The Deer and Elk Hunt Anonymous

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183 187

Part Three. Music, Song, and Dance 20.

Menomini Indian Dance Songs in a Changing Culture Gertrude P. Kurath

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21.

The Wanigan Song Book Isabel J. Ebert

200

22.

Kentucky Folksong in Northern Wisconsin Asher E. Treat

219

23.

"The Light Fantastic" in the Central West: Country Dances of Many Nationalities in Wisconsin Wardon Alan Curtis

251

Hoppwaltzes and Homebrew: Traditional Norwegian American Music from Wisconsin Philip Martin

259

24.

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Contents

25.

Polka Music in a Polka State James P. Leary

268

26.

Black Gospel Music in Milwaukee Peter Roller

284

27.

Joua Bee Xiong, Hmong Musician James P. Leary

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Part Four. Beliefs and Customs 28.

John Mink, Ojibwe Informant Joseph B. Casagrande

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29.

Faith and Magic Hexing Leone F. Griesemer Sorcery Alice Ottow Faith Healing Can and Does Work Bill Brandt

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The "Plaster Doctor" of Somerset James Taylor Dunn

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31.

"Jecz Cha Nacha!": You Are Invited to a Polish Wedding in Wisconsin Rena J. Grubb

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32.

The Wisconsin Oneida Wake Robert Ritzenthaler

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Julebukk Christmas at Grandmother's Ken Silver Yule Buk Howard Halvorson Christmas Customs in and around Oregon, Wisconsin Byron D. Wechter

346 347

34.

The Yuba, Wisconsin, Masopust Festival Thomas E. Barden

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35.

Dyngus Anne Pellowski

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36.

Belgians Bring Along Their Customs Math S. Tlachac

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37.

The Swiss Colony at New Glarus John Luchsinger

367

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349 350

Contents

38.

371 372

Woods Customs Lumberjack Games John Emmett Nelligan

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Lumberjack Games Gregg Montgomery

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Wisconsin Pastimes Mary Agnes Starr

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Wisconsin Tavern Amusements James P. Leary

Part Five. Material Traditions and Folklife 40.

Wisconsin Indian Drums and Their Uses

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Jordyce A. Kuhm

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Alex Maulson, Winter Spearer

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James P. Leary

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Work at Rest

407

Janet C. Gilmore

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Meet a Wooden Shoe Hewer

432

Gladys Fossum

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Feast of Folklore: The St. James Church Pork Hocks and Sauerkraut Supper

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Terese Allen

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Shrines and Crosses in Rural Central Wisconsin

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Dennis L. Kolinski

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"We Made 'Em to Fit Our Purpose": The Northern Lake Michigan Fishing Skiff Tradition Janet C. Gilmore Tobacco Growing in Southwestern Wisconsin: Ethnicity in a Traditional Labor Practice

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Thomas E. Barden

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The Pickle Factory

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Michael Clark

Further Reading: A Selected List Further Listening and Viewing: A Selected List Index

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497 522 526

ILLUSTRATIONS

1.1 1.2 1.3 1.4 1.5 1.1 2.1

3.1 5.1

6.1 7.1 8.1 9.1 10.1

11.1 12.1

13.1 14.1 15.1 16.1 17.1 17.2 18.1 19.1 20.1 20.2 20.3 21.1 21.2

A "brat fry" in Sheboygan A bait shop, woodpile, and snowmobile Helene Stratman-Thomas with Harry Dyer The Moquah Slovak Dancers James P. Leary interviews Bob Mathiowetz Sheboygan postcard from 1907 John Williams leading Welsh singers at a Gymanfa Ganu Watertown postcard from 1910 Jack Bundy in his Grenadiers regalia William F. Kirk in his guise of the "Norsk Nightengale" Loggers in their bateaux A 1900 postcard of Milwaukee German amid beer, cheese, pretzels, and sausage Sorting apples in the Kickapoo valley Charlie Kubista brings in the hay "Jackpine Savage Days" Ho-Chunk singers with bone whistle and hand drum Dee Bainbridge telling stories Paul Bunyan and his ox, Babe Trollodin wanders the "trollway" Mrs. Thoms Walek at her Friday morning baking George Russell in his days as a timber scaler George Russell on the Russell family's Lake Montanis farm Walter Johnson holds one of his record albums Les Rondau files a duck decoy Jerry Hawpetoss sings with a water drum Menomini Songs-Sequential Menomini Songs-Binary Lumber camp singer Emery DeNoyer Fiddlers and cook-shack crew

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34 37 41 50 64

73 81

86 90 107 115 123 141

151 160 165 166 178

184 193 194 196 202 203

Illustrations

21.3 21.4 21.5 21.6 22.1 24.1 25.1 25.2 25.3 26.1 26.2 27.1 27.2 28.1 29.1 30.1 31.1 32.1 33.1 35.1 36.1 37.1 38.1 39.1 40.1 41.1 41.2 41.3 41.4 42.1 42.2 42.3 42.4 42.5 42.6 42.7 42.8

"The Jam on Gerry's Rock" "The Wolf River Shanty Boy Song" "The Little Brown Bulls" "The Tomahawk River Hymn" Mrs. Ollie Jacobs in her home, 1941 The Nyen Brothers Band, 1920 The Pilsen Band Irving DeWitz, with his daughter Lucille, 1929 Richie Yurkovich in his basement studio, 1987 The Happy Harmonizers Church of God in Christ, 1930s Joua Bee Xiong plays the qeej Hmong shaman Neng Lor Lee with traditional swords and head cloth John Mink outside his home, 1941 Ella Mittelstadt Fischer, with daughters, Mother's Day 1950 The sheet music for Samuel Tuft's 1907 ballad of John Till Music from a Polish wedding Moccasins-in-progress on the kitchen table of Josephine Daniels Julebukkers, or "Christmas foolers" Easter eggs decorated by Helen Wieczorak Boyer Dorothy Massart prepares "Belgian pies" Swiss Americans in a horseback parade The Wisconsin Lumberjacks, 1930s Card players at Dominic Slusarski's Ritz Tavern, Stevens Point Ken Funmaker, Sr., plays the big drum and sings a Ho-Chunk song Dipping ice from a chiseled hole Positioning and lashing the spearing tent The characteristic strip and dot profile of a blackened Maulson decoy The business end of Alex Maulson's spear Shared Interests, 1986: Frances Morschauser and her daughter, Clara Feuling The Family "Log Cabin" Quilt Pattern, 1986: quilt by Frances Morschauser An Active Bearer of Tradition, 1992: Clara Feuling quilts a "Log Cabin" design quilt Lou Anne Feuling shows her "Crazy" quilt Larry Feuling shows his baby quilt Doily of Armenian Needlelace, 1930 Ever Hospitable, 1986: Mary Arganian prepares mavish, Armenian rose pastry Armenian Needlelace-Making, 1986, by Elizabeth Keosian

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207 209 211 213 222 261 270 278 281 285 286 294 298 309 325 334 341 344 348 358 364 369 373 379 390 400 401 403 404 410 411 412 413 413 414 415 416

Illustrations

42.9 42.10 42.11 42.12 42.13 42.14 42.15 42.16 42.17 42.18 42.19 42.20 42.21 43.1 44.1 45.1 45.2 45.3 46.1 46.2 46.3 46.4 46.5 46.6 46.7 46.8 47.1 47.2 47.3 47.4 48.1

Rag Rug, and Rug Rag Balls, shown in the Wisconsin Folk Museum Dorothy Hess weaving a rag rug, 1992 Rag Rugs Ready to Go, 1992 "Necktie" Quilt, c. 1982, by Allie M. Crumble Fancy Strings by Mother Crumble, 1992 Crocheted Doily, 1991, by Pascalena Galle Dahl Work by the Seasons, 1986: Pascalena Galle Dahl showing her canning and crocheting Backstrap Loom on Frame, 1991, and Women's Latvian Belt Patterns, 1991 Vita V. Kakulis wears her costume representing the Lielvarde district of central Latvia Back-strap weaving demonstration by Vita V. Kakulis, 1986 Early work of Vita V. Kakulis Miniature Wool Comforter, 1990, and Work-in-the-Cold Socks, 1992 Ethel Soviak knitting wool socks, 1992 William Klompenhauwer works on a wooden shoe Lutefisk consumers at the Burke Lutheran Church's annual dinner Wayside cross on the farm of Stanley and Arlene Brezinski Wayside shrine on the farm of Bernice Jakubek Post-World War II yard shrine of Florian and Dolores Gorecki The western Great Lakes region Pound net typical in Green Bay area in the 1880s Plans of an 1880s pound-net boat Plans of an 1880s pound-net dinghy Interior framework of wooden pound-net skiff "Bill" Seaman's steel trap-net skiff Richard Grabowski's steel pound-net skiff Wayne Seaman's square-nosed vee-bottomed steel trap-net skiff Ira Melsna and assistant lift the pan after steaming a bed section Clarence Mellem spears tobacco with a spearing jack John Duncan displays a hand-carved hardwood spearing lath Tobacco barn with louvers Pea-canning line

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418 419 420 421 422 423 424 426 427 428 428 429 430 433 437 450 452 454 459 460 462 463 464 467 468 471 479 481 481 482 487

PREFACE

In 1846, two years before Wisconsin became a state, the English scholar William J. Thoms coined the word "folklore." A partisan in the romantic and nationalist movements that swept Europe in the mid-nineteenth century, Thoms was fascinated by the sayings, stories, music, songs, beliefs, customs, and crafts practiced by English peasants. He felt, as did the Brothers Grimm in Germany, that intellectuals and artists need no longer look for inspiration beyond the medieval "dark ages" to the "classical" cultures of Greece and Rome; rather they could find more appropriate and immediate stimulation in the traditions of their own humble peasants. Thoms and others like him also recognized that folklore was far more than mere raw material awaiting transformation by an educated elite, it was valuable in its own right not only for its aesthetic qualities but also because it expressed the experiences, the attitudes, the "soul" of a given nation's ordinary people. More than 150 years later, on the occasion of Wisconsin's sesquicentennial, my own interests and motives as the compiler of an anthology of Wisconsin's folklore differ little from William J. Thoms and the Grimms. To be sure, like most contemporary folklorists, my notion of "folk" extends far beyond peasants, my sense of "tradition" embraces change as much as continuity, and my all-inclusive concept of just who constitutes a place's "people" counters perversely narrow interpretations that have justified potato famines, pogroms, holocausts, and ethnic cleansings. But I am very much a hardcore cheesehead. I was born and raised in Wisconsin and, for me, it is the center of the world. I don't mean this in a narrow chauvinistic sense. I believe that every place is, for its particular people, the center of the world, and that no place is inherently better than any other place. But Wisconsin is my center, my place, and, echoing America's southern regionalists, Wisconsin is where "I'll take my stand." I was born in 1950 and raised in Rice Lake, where my parents had built a home at the city's edge, between a woods, a swamp, and two lakes-a few hundred yards from the site of an old trading post where Frenchman August Carot swapped goods for pelts harvested by local Ojibwe. Our near neighbors were German, Bohemian, Norwegian, French Canadian, and Irish. Mostly Catholics and Lutherans, they were

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dairy farmers, loggers, woodworkers, gunsmiths, factory hands, and resort owners; some ran trap lines for beaver and muskrat, hunted ducks and deer, and fished year round; some picked mushrooms, gardened, and tapped sugar maples. As a kid I hunted and fished, skated and skied, worked on haying crews and peeled bark with a spud in the pulpwoods. I heard jokes about Ole and Lena performed in lilting dialect by wool-clad former lumberjacks whose cheeks bulged with "snoose." I sampled the Tschemachs' homemade sauerkraut and sniffed the lutefisk for sale in Gammelgard's Grocery. I ate aged Swiss from Hilfiker's cheese factory that was so sharp it made my mouth itch, and I sneaked into Broome's Club 48 for a draft of Breunig's Lager Beer. I played "Dirty Clubs" in Mike Gesicki's basement, danced the polka at Sokup's Tavern, and listened to WJMC radio when you could still hear the Erik Berg Band broadcast Scandinavian music "live" under the sponsorship of the Indianhead Rendering Plant. All this and more marked me with what scholars call a particular worldview, weltanschauung, or mentalitie. At sixteen I went off to Australia as an "exchange student, and then to school and work in Indiana, Ireland, North Carolina, Washington, D.C., and Kentucky. I came to think critically; to view my home territory from the inside and the outside; to evaluate, to compare, to contrast. But I had never really left home. In 1970, as a junior in college, I learned that one could study folklore as an academic discipline. Four years later-after earning a B.A. in English Literature from Notre Dame and an M.A. in Folklore from the University of North CarolinaI found myself pursuing a Ph.D. in Folklore and American Studies at Indiana University. There I listened and looked, mostly in vain, for comprehensive accounts of the rich folklore I had encountered while growing up in Wisconsin and the surrounding Upper Midwest. Disappointed but determined, I began combing libraries, archives, and bookstores; seeking out some of the writers whose works I found; carrying a tape recorder to interview myoid neighbors about their cultural traditions; and discovering with delight that a handful of others were doing the same thing. This anthology invites readers to share my sense of discovery and delight, to glimpse Wisconsin's diverse folk cultural traditions, and to meet their practitioners and chroniclers. Choosing what to include, however, has not been easy. I have done my best to rely on the twin criteria of readability and representation. Regarding readability, the essays that follow are chiefly descriptive, although more than a few are suffused with theoretical sophistication. Some include highly technical passages concerning, for example, construction techniques for drums and boats, dance steps, and the nuances of vocal performance. But all of the essays avoid the excessive academic jargon that occasionally masquerades as learned discourse. Representation is a trickier matter. Every individual's experience with folklore will vary, and one person's experiences can never be conveyed entirely to another through any medium. But we do what we can. I chose the essays here primarily because they present the full range of the state's most prevalent and distinctive traditions, past and present. I have also tried to offer a fair reflection of the folklore bound up with Wisconsin's evolving ethnic and occupational cultures; its men and

XVI

Preface

its women; its geographical subregions; its urban, small town, and rural settings. The particular authors, from 1884 through 1998, likewise are anthropologists, ethnomusicologists, folklorists, historians, journalists, museologists, ordinary citizens moved to reminisce, sociologists, students satisfying term paper requirements, and writers of fiction-all of whose work accurately spans the varied prose styles and perspectives applied to Wisconsin's folklore. Since folklorists, predictably, have written the most about the state's folklore, their work is included to a greater extent, and it is cast not only in the format of polished articles but also in the modes of exhibit text, fieldwork report, and edited interview transcription that exemplify current public folklore practice. The essays are clustered with regard to the forms or genres of folklore, partly because the plethora of Wisconsin's cultural groups would have made any other arrangement unwieldy, but mostly because, through juxtaposition, I hope readers will apprehend both the distinctions and the parallels between, for example, Algonquian and German place names, or Norwegian fiddlers and Hmong qeej players. "Beyond selecting and arranging the essays, I have preceded each with commentary that combines personal observations, supplemental references, biographical information, and remarks on their various historical, theoretical, and institutional contexts. This anthology has been a long time coming and I am happy to acknowledge many debts. In the spring of 1975, the late John Meggers extended me the opportunity to teach Folklore of Wisconsin at Rice Lake's University of Wisconsin-Barron County campus, over which he presided as dean. Full of enthusiasm and trepidation, I persuaded Warren Roberts, in whose Indiana Folklore course I was enrolled at the time, to allow me to compile an annotated bibliography of Wisconsin folklore. Many of the articles I located that semester have found their way into this anthology. Since then I have been able to pursue my interests in Wisconsin's folklore with the support and inspiration of many individuals and institutions. The latter include, among others, the Cedarburg Cultural Center, the Chippewa Valley Museum, Folklore Village Farm, the Hocak Wazijaci Language and Culture Program, the John Michael Kohler Arts Center, the National Endowment for the Arts, Northland College, the Smithsonian Institution, the State Historical Society of Wisconsin, the Wisconsin Arts Board, the Wisconsin Folk Museum, the Wisconsin Humanities Council, and especially the Folklore Program at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, where I have been employed intermittently since 1984. Within those organizations and elsewhere, fellow scholars and enthusiasts have generously shared their insights and excitement with me. I cannot hope to mention them all, but those who come to mind most often include: Lisa Akey, Arnie Alanen, Terese Allen, Lois Anderson, Bob Andresen, Jim Bailey, Tom Barden, Phil Bohlman, Bruce Bollerud, Metin Ekici, Ken Funmaker, Sr., Matt Gallman, Robert Gard, Janet Gilmore, Michelle Greendeer, Victor Greene, Gina Grumke, Jack Holzheuter, Niels Ingwersen, Lewis Koch, Jack Kugelmass, Marina Lachecki, Geri Laudati, Nancy Lurie, Richard March, Phil Martin, Tom Martin-Erickson, Marjorie McClellan, Susan McLeod, Doug Miller, Roger Mitchell, Juha Niemela, Ruth Olson, Emily Osborn, Tim Pfaff, Anne Pryor, V. Narayana Rao, Judy Rose, Harold Scheub, Joanne

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Stuttgen, Steve Sundell, George Talbot, Randy Tallmadge, Bob Teske, Bill Tishler, Tom Vennum, Mark Wagler, Walker Wyman, Phillip Zarrilli, and Mary Zwolinski. I might never have compiled this anthology, however, had it not been for Mary Elizabeth Braun of the University of Wisconsin Press who encouraged me to produce a manuscript. Once underway, John Solon offered invaluable service as he scanned some of the lengthier essays into a computer, and Rosemarie Lester enlightened me regarding the spelling and meaning of Wisconsin German expressions. The generous and perceptive criticisms of Jan Harold Brunvand and Tom Vennum, who carefully read my work in progress, have immeasurably improved its final rendition. My mom, Patricia Berigan Leary, died in 1992. She and my dad, Warren Leary, fostered my passion for cultural expressions and helped me see them in my own backyard. Janet Gilmore, fellow folklorist and partner in life, has been my best friend and critic as we have traversed the state that I love almost as much as she does her native Oregon. I dedicate this book to her.

XVIII

Wisconsin Folklore

Introduction: On Wisconsin Folklore James P. Leary

The notion of Wisconsin folklore begs consideration of the palpable yet elusive nature of Wisconsin itself. Wisconsin, the word, is an anglicized spelling of a French version of one or several native expressions variously attributed to the Ho-Chunk, the Menominee, and the Mesquakie (Vogel 1965). Wisconsin, the place, emerged as a descriptive phrase for an indefinite area, gained physical and political dimension with its designation as a territory in 1836, then saw its boundaries shift and shrink prior to statehood in 1848. Wisconsin-as not just a word, place, or political entity but as an idea-has long resonated with people and with culture, with folk and with lore. And Wisconsin folklore, like Wisconsin's people, is unarguably heterogenous, diverse, pluralistic. Yet it is also creolized, hybridized, amalgamated-contributing to a north coast cultural booyah, a hearty one-pot meal of varied origins, that is every bit as grand as the chowder, gumbo, or salsa of more celebrated American regions.

Peoples, Words, and Foods Recent national surveys tell us that Wisconsin, "America's Dairyland," leads the nation in cheese and milk production. Wisconsin has the highest incidence of obesity of any state, it leads the country in per capita brandy consumption, and is consistently among the leaders in beer consumption. Some observers have linked these facts to the state's northern and central European heritage (Vogeler 1986: 9-15). In 1890, Wisconsin ranked first among states east of the Mississippi in its percentage of foreign-born residents; and those residents were overwhelmingly northern and central European (Rippley 1985: 43). In 1980, when the United States census gave people the option of indicating a specific ancestry, 91 percent of the people in Wisconsin cited particular nationalities. Only North Dakota, Minnesota, and Hawaii had higher proportions of respondents. Wisconsinites are clearly conscious of their own and others' ethnicity. When I first entered grade school in the mid-1950s one of the first questions I recall hearing was "what nationality are you?" By that time I was quite aware that I was Irish and,

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Introduction

having listened to my dad, I could already match my neighbors' surnames with their ethnicity: Uchytil was Bohemian, Gagner was French Canadian, Rogowski was Polish, DeGidio was Italian, Eidsmoe was Norwegian, Ahonen was Finnish, Lawton was English, Destache was Belgian, Ivanauskas was Lithuanian, Schaubschlager was German, and Bandli was Swiss. Roaming the grocery store with my mother I often overheard locals ordering jars of sill (Norwegian for pickled herring), or commenting on their taste for schmierkiise (German for cottage cheese-sometimes spelled "smearcase" on handwritten store signs). When gathered with my buddies on the grade school playground, I delighted in singing "Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall" and, eventually, "In Heaven There is No Beer." I subsequently learned parts of the latter song in its original German, and I have since heard it sung by Wisconsinites in Walloon French and Norwegian. I considered this diversity normal until I went to school outside the state and was told that the names of my schoolmates back home were "weird," that some of my expressions were "foreign," that not every kid sang songs about beer, and that I "talked funny." In the early 1920s, Konrad Bercovici toured ethnic enclaves in the United States, compiling material for a book chronicling the adaptation of various immigrant groups to rural American life. Bercovici must have consulted the work of George W. Hill, a professor at the University of Wisconsin, who compiled ethnic maps based on state census data: The state of Wisconsin, upon which the countries are marked in different color to denote the various foreign populations, makes that state look like a colored checker-board. There is not a single nation on earth that is not represented. The names of some of the towns and townships convey the information that the whole world is represented in Wisconsin. There is a Geneva, a Denmark, a Kaukauna, a Casanovia. There are names of French origin as well as German, Scandinavian, and many other nationalities, all within the bounds of the state of Wisconsin.... No other State has been populated so rapidly by foreign population as Wisconsin. One can literally pass through Wisconsin with any language one happens to possess, sure in advance of finding someone to speak to. (Bercovici 1925: 35)

Fifty years later, when my Oregonian wife, Janet Gilmore, first visited Wisconsin, she had the impression that most of the people she met spoke English as a second language. Linguists with an interest in dialect have commented on the influence of various "foreign" tongues, particularly German, on variants of Midwestern English spoken in Wisconsin. The English "th" sound is typically reduced to "t" or replaced by "d" among older speakers of German, Scandinavian, Finnish, Slavic, and Italian ancestry who prefer "dis," "dat," "dem," "dese," and "dose" to their Standard American English counterparts. The German and Scandinavianja, sometimes spelled as "ya" or "yah," is the standard Wisconsin equivalent of "yes." The German preposition bei, meaning "at," is often rendered "by" by Wisconsin speakers who reckon "by Joe's dey say t'ings are pretty busy yet," or "you can get a good deal by Shopko."

4

Introduction

1.1. A "brat fry" in Sheboygan celebrates the German culinary heritage of America's "wurst city," 1950s. Wisconsin Folk Museum Collection, courtesy Mead Public Library, Sheboygan.

Likewise a child who is sick or who is not permitted to visit a friend's house might be told, "You stay to home," from the German zu haus. The German intensifier einmal or simply mal-which literally means "once" but actually signifies "why don't you"-is frequently incorporated into Wisconsin English in expressions like "come over once," or "get me a beer once." Meanwhile, in Milwaukee especially, the Yankee contraction "ain't" is combined with a German dialect rendering of nicht (not) as ne to make "aina" or "enna"-an expression understood to mean "isn't that true?" For example, ''The Brewers are pretty lousy this year, aina?" While Germanisms flavor Wisconsin talk, German drink and food have become statewide fare. Milwaukee, once dubbed the "German Athens," has also been known as "Beer City" in recognition of the economic rise of such late-nineteenth-century German braumeisters as Blatz, Miller, Pabst, and Schlitz. Meanwhile, the bratwurst, often served on a bed of sauerkraut and slathered with spicy mustard, is essential at summer cookouts and, in the "lake-to-Iake" region (between Lakes Winnebago and Michigan), is the centerpiece of community fundraisers known as "brat frys" (Fig. 1.1). "Sheboygan brats" are prized well beyond their home base, but they are especially appreciated in the greater Sheboygan area. Heather Teske, a friend and formerly an elementary school teacher near Sheboygan, was drilling her students with rhyming words that incorporate short "a" and end in "at." When presented with a "c," the class chimed "cat," when presented with an "r," they responded "rat," and so on with "p," "m," "f1," and "sl." When the kids came to "br," however, they abandoned the short "a" synonym for an unruly child to pronounce "brat" as if it were an abbreviation of bratwurst-"braht."

5

Introduction

Wisconsin is also the state with the largest tribal variety of Woodland Indians, and it claims a greater population of native peoples than any state east of the Mississippi. Scores of American Indian names have been attached to Wisconsin's counties (Outagamie, Waushara, Kewaunee), cities (Menomonie, Oconomowoc, Waunakee), rural hamlets (Ogema, Tuscobia, Wabeno), and lakes (Windigo, Winnebago, Mendota). Outsiders commonly mispronounce these names and regard them as peculiar, but they are simply "everyday" words in Wisconsin that everybody knows and knows how to say. An awareness of ethnic pluralism and a tendency to speak English laced with native and immigrant contributions both clearly characterize the cultural experience of Wisconsinites. Not surprisingly, there are numerous other examples of folklore that the state's residents hold in common. Most, for example, have participated in or been affected by the state's love affair with the Green Bay Packers; most have heard or told snippets about the legendary Ed Gein, perhaps Wisconsin's most famous criminal; most have a rich array of verbal, customary, and material responses to winter; and most have encountered sometimes heated expressions of rivalry between Wisconsin and neighboring states.

Packermania Formed in 1918, the Green Bay Packers are one of the National Football League's oldest franchises. What's more, the team is owned by the community rather than some wealthy individual, situated in the NFL's smallest city, and named for humble meat packers. The Packers' antiquity, local base, and small town, even rural, working-class associations-not to mention their periodic success-have won them an extraordinarily loyal following throughout Wisconsin. Their 1996 championship season and victory in the 1997 Super Bowl, for example, were accompanied by a flurry of verbal, customary, and material folklore, which was linked in turn to ongoing traditions within the state. One of the first jokes I recall hearing, in the mid-1950s, linked Lena, the heroine of countless Scandinavian dialect jokes, with the Green Bay Packers-and, by extension, allied the team with ethnic Wisconsin. In the mid-1990s, Lena's paramour Ole and his sidekick Sven figured in another joke I heard (and told) frequently: Ole and Sven died in a boating accident on Green Bay and found themselves in hell. The devil had lots more friends in Chicago than in "God's Country," so he decided to really make them suffer. He turned the heat way up. Ole was really sweating, but he turned to Sven and said, "Yah know, dis ain't so bad. It's yust like cutting first crop hay in Wisconsin in June." The Devil didn't like that, so he cranked the heat up as far as it could go. Now Ole was really sweating and getting red in the face, but he turned to Sven and said, "Yah, dis is hot, but it ain't so bad. Yust like da hay mow back in Wisconsin in August." The Devil was furious. He figured if he couldn't roast them, he could freeze them. Pretty

6

Introduction soon it was fifty below. Ole was just blue, but he got really excited: are gonna vin da Super Bowl!"

~~Sven!

Sven! Da Packers

Perhaps too esoteric for outsiders, the punchline referred back to the Packers' fabled victory over the Dallas Cowboys on the "frozen tundra" of Green Bay's Lambeau Field in 1967's "Ice Bowl." It also made contemporary reference to the Packers' inability to beat Dallas in big games during the 1990s. The "Packerization" of stock ethnic characters in a familiar afterlife setting was paralleled in 1996 by a makeover of the Lord's Prayer that circulated via photocopiers, faxes, and the Internet. "Our Favre" beseeched the Packers' quarterback, Brett Favre, to lead the team to the Super Bowl in New Orleans: Our Favre, who art in Lambeau, hallowed be thy arm. Thy Bowl will come, it will be won, in New Orleans as it is in Lambeau. Give us this Sunday our weekly win, and give us many touchdown passes. But do not let others pass against us. Lead us not into frustration, but deliver us to Bourbon Street. For thine is the MVP, the best in the NFC, and the glory of the cheeseheads, now and forever. Go get'em.

Nor is the religious association with the Packers anything new. During the team's "glory days" in the 1960s, the priests in my hometown invariably hurried the last service on "Packer Sundays" and instructed churchgoers to drive safely as they left for their television sets. The introduction of Saturday evening masses in the 1970s quickly became very popular during the football season. Magical beliefs or superstitions likewise cluster around Packer games, as they do around any significantly regarded yet unpredictable activity. Nicole Zimmer, a student in my fall 1996 American Folklore course at the University of WisconsinMadison, reported that her friend, Phillip Van Heiden of Chippewa Falls, wears a Packer jersey in the belief that it will affect the team's performance: He told me a story that supported his claim that it is a lucky shirt. When he went back home to Chippewa Falls for a weekend last year, his mom washed the jersey on Saturday. When the Packers played the next day, they lost. Phil attributes this to having the luck "washed out" of his shirt. A similar event happened this year when his mom washed the jersey, and instead of losing, the Packers played poorly during the first half until "I got the luck back in the shirt," says Phil. The Packers went on to win the game. Because of this, he or his mom only wash the shirt about once a football season.

Countless other Packer fans similarly attempt to ensure their heroes' triumph by engaging in recurrent actions or donning special regalia in colors ranging from the team's green and gold to the fluorescent orange that doubles as deer hunting garb.

The State Ghoul The perverse autumnal deeds of Ed Gein, a Plainfield bachelor farmer, are nearly as memorable in Wisconsin as those of Packer quarterbacks Bart Starr and Brett Favre. Gein is notorious for murdering two women in 1957, one of whom he gutted

7

Introduction

and butchered like a deer. A subsequent investigation of the killer's home revealed that he had regularly robbed women's graves and, relying on the tanning and taxidermic skills of many an "up north" woodsman, had turned their body parts into assorted furniture, articles of clothing, and displays. In his monograph on Gein, folklorist Roger Mitchell of Eau Claire observes that lore concerning Gein "seems to bring out the worst in Wisconsinites and residents in nearby Minnesota." Mitchell's data, drawn from ninety-two informants in sixty-six Wisconsin communities, includes numerous crude jokes and rhymes about Gein-many of which remain in circulation. Among them: Why was Ed Gein expelled from school? He was such a cut up.

Didn't you hear? Gein was released from Waupun and they got him a job ... but he got to moonlighting and they sent him back to Waupun.... They caught him selling arms to the Arabs.

An old man from Plainfield named Ed Never took a woman to bed. When he wanted a little, He cut out the middle, And hung the rest in a shed. (Mitchell 1979: 50)

Far from wishing to forget about Gein, some Wisconsinites take a perverse pleasure in noting that a fiend from their state partially inspired motion pictures such as Psycho and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Indeed, a friend of mine who has Wisconsin roots but lives in Washington, D.C., made a point of buying books on Gein for friends in the nation's capitol-much in the way that Floridians might dole out a case of grapefruit or Kentuckians might bestow a flask of bourbon.

The Long Winter While Gein's deviance may coax macabre associations with the late autumn deer hunt, winter brings out other lore among Wisconsinites. In a place where it is proverbial to complain that the year typically consists of "nine months of winter and three months late in the fall," people are especially adept at artful talk about the coldest season. Some refer ironically to Milwaukee as "the Riviera of the Arctic Circle," while others inversely praise the south shore of Lake Superior with phrases like "it's colder by the lake." When sleet, then snow, falls, cars churn the stuff into "slush" that often clings to their frames in stalactite-like "snirts" (mixtures of snow and dirt). "Glare ice" on the highway can become dangerous "black ice"; meanwhile the first ice that "makes" on lakes is "glassy" until covered with a flat crust of "pancake ice" which, as spring approaches, becomes "rotten ice," "grey ice," or "honeycombed . " Ice.

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Introduction

Habitues of Rice Lake's Buckhorn Tavern told me when I was a kid that the tunnels in decaying ice indicated the work of ice worms. I put enough credence in the legend to look for them when I rowed along a narrow channel of mostly frozen Lake Montanis during "break up" (melting) time. Otto Rindlisbacher (1895-1975), the original proprietor of the Buckhorn Tavern'in Rice Lake and an accomplished taxidermist, festooned his walls with actual stuffed animals, as well as taxidermic hoaxes like the shovel-tailed snowsnake and the fur herring. The former, fitted with red glass eyes and painted a lurid green, was obviously carved from wood, but the herring, an actual fish with a pelt jacket, was more convincing. A mock scientific newspaper article vouched for its authenticity. While legendary and tall-tale accounts associated with winter circulate widely in Wisconsin, they are not as common as true stories on recurrent themes. Over the years I have built up my own repertoire of personal stories regarding the biggest snowfall, or the coldest day, or the most treacherous driving, or the most consecutive days of shoveling I have ever experienced during a Wisconsin winter. Driving stories, in particular, branch into numerous subcategories: marathon journeys alone in a blizzard, narrow escapes on the ice, accidents, and encounters with snow banks. Nearly everyone who has ventured out between October and April can tell a few such winter stories-often amid the seasonal gatherings held to stave off "cabin fever." Winter games and activities, many of them traditional, have long been an antidote to said fever. I learned very early, like my dad and my daughter, to lie on my back, flailing arms and legs, to form "snow angels." Soon I was chasing and being chased along pie-shaped paths trampled in the snow for a backyard game of "fox and geese." The school playground was the site for "king of the hill," enjoyed atop mounds of plowed snow. Bundled in our winter clothing, we boys also tackled one another amidst "porn porn pullaway," and strafed each other with snowballs. We built snow figures and structures when the snow was "packy." When we were daring enough and the roads were slick, we tried "skitching" (skiing and hitching) by hanging on to a truck's back bumper. Like our parents and grandparents, we skated on the lake and on flooded lots, enjoying games like "tag," "crack the whip," and modified versions of hockey. Whereas some of our elders had fashioned skis from barrel staves, ours were store-bought; but like them we "panked" the snow to build small jumps. And when we were old enough to drive, we were foolish enough to fashion "doughnuts" by turning sharply and accelerating on snow-covered parking lots. Another of our tricks involved tying a toboggan to a car's back bumper and then dragging it and a rider over a frozen lake. Frozen lakes were also the site for "hard water fishing." Small "shanty towns" still form each winter on Lower Rice Lake within sight of where I grew up. Most are and always have been homemade: cobbled from scrap lumber, paneling, and sheet metal; often fitted out with a window and a wood stove; some are of flat-roofed squarish design, others gabled rectangles resembling the old "two-holer" outhouses. Ice fishermen nowadays often buy their jig poles and tip-ups (set lines with flags that pop up when a fish bites); they favor manufactured ice augurs; and they haul their

9

Introduction

1.2. A bait shop, woodpile, and snowmobile offer a typical "up north" still life. Bayfield County, 1989. Photo: James P. Leary.

gear on molded plastic sleds. Not so long ago, however, no such equipment could be bought. Dedicated ice fishermen like Bob Egan of Monona, John Feavel of Neenah, Dale Schuebel of Rice Lake, and many others fashioned their jigs from sawed-off broom handles and the arms of their tip-ups from umbrella spokes. They formed fishing holes with chisels made by welding axes or other toolbits to automobile drive shafts, and crafted wooden sleds to suit their ice fishing needs. Some sleds held a thermos of coffee or hot chocolate. But winter is likewise a time when many in Wisconsin swallow schnapps, egg nog, glugg, a Tom and Jerry, a hot toddy, or hot buttered rum. Certain taverns specialize in these old favorites and some even invent new drinks in honor of winter.

Images and Borders Those who wander in search of winter drinks from Hurley, Wisconsin, into Ironwood, Michigan, or from Superior, Wisconsin, to Duluth, Minnesota, may notice little change when crossing the border. One common joke I have heard over the years involves a fellow who moves one summer from Ironwood to Hurley. Old friends ask him how he likes the change? "Oh fine," he says, "and I'll be especially glad in six months-I won't have to go through those cold Michigan winters anymore." (Ironwood and Hurley are adjacent border towns beset by exactly the same winter weather-fierce cold compounded with immense "lake effect" snowfalls.) The point

10

Introduction

of this joke, of course, is that there is little difference between northern Wisconsin and the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. Perhaps one of the most effective ways of gauging the degree to which people of a given state have a sense of shared culture is to elicit attitudes about their state vis-a-vis neighboring states. While residents of.the East and West Coasts may hold the parochial view that all Midwesterners are the same, those who live in the region are sharply aware of what links them with and separates them from their neighbors. Minnesotans, for example, delight in referring to Iowa as "Baja Minnesota," and they exchange numerous jokes about the supposed rusticity of Iowans: Q: Why do the football teams play on natural turf in Iowa? A: So the cheerleaders can graze at halftime. Iowans, meanwhile, joke that the secession of its southern counties to join Missouri would raise the IQs of both states. Wisconsinites, for the most part, make few distinctions between themselves and dwellers in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. The "'U.P." was part of the old Wisconsin Territory until the 1830s, when it was ceded to lower Michigan in compensation for the loss of the "Toledo Strip" to Ohio. It was also effectively isolated from lower Michigan until the Mackinac Bridge was completed in 1959. Moreover, the U.P.'s native and immigrant peoples, its environmental features, and its logging, mining, commercial fishing, and tourism industries coincide with those of northern Wisconsin. Dwellers in the western Upper Peninsula especially often look to Wisconsin for employment, goods, and entertainment, emigrating to Milwaukee in search of jobs, traveling to Green Bay to shop, and tuning in the Packers and Brewers as often as Detroit's athletic Lions and Tigers. As Conga Se Menne, an inimitable Finnish reggae band from Marquette, put it: When they score touchdown or field goal, We shout out hooray. We go Green Bay, to watch the Packers play.

The lyrics to "We Go Green Bay" go on to mention "Yoopers," the jocular designation for residents of the U.P., as well as their attraction to Shopko, a regional discount department store (Conga Se Menne 1994). Commercial advertisers, not surprisingly, also acknowledge cross-state symbiosis. In the early 1990s, a television come-on for the Ford Motor Company offered a map of Wisconsin and the Upper Peninsula, while jingle singers crooned: "There're two special places to be: here in Wisconsin, and the wild U.P." Perhaps because the border with Iowa is so small, because it joins sparsely populated rural areas of each state, and because it is not crossed by major transportation routes, Wisconsinites pay little attention to Iowans, with the annual exception of college football games between the Wisconsin Badgers and the Iowa Hawkeyes. Hardcore Wisconsin fans have had a particular antipathy toward Iowa coach Hayden Fry-most obviously because of his aggressive manner, but perhaps more so because he speaks an alien southern dialect that renders Wisconsin as "Wesconsin," and the fact that, until the arrival of UW coach Barry Alvarez, he had been successful at recruiting fine Wisconsin players to "turn" on their home state.

11

Introduction

Wisconsin and Minnesota-which share, among other things, borders, climate, a progressive political tradition, and an abundance of citizens with Scandinavian and German heritage-enjoy a sense of cultural similarity. There are, however, rivalries and occasional frictions. To cite just one example, Minnesotans, as their license plates tell us, are justifiably proud of having "ten thousand lakes" that team with game fish. Wisconsinites, however, may wonder what's the big deal: after all, Wisconsin has nearly fifteen thousand lakes. Avid fishers also debate which state has the "best" fishing, often conceding that Minnesota boasts better walleye lakes, while fishing for muskellunge is unparalleled in Wisconsin. Interstate debates also center around which state produces the best fishers. In the late 1980s Governors Tommy Thompson of Wisconsin and Rudy Perpich of Minnesota made a symbolic attempt to settle the matter with a fishing contest along the border-on Lake Pepin. Nothing was resolved: one caught the most fish, the other caught the biggest. Residents of northwestern Wisconsin are occasionally rankled by media bombardment from Minneapolis-St. Paul, the Twin Cities, about the prowess of football's Vikings and baseball's Twins. My dad, Warren Leary of Rice Lake, a diehard Packer and Brewer fan, refers to these Minnesota teams as the "Viqueens" and the "Twinkies." The Twin Cities area likewise sends thousands of tourists and summer cabindwellers into nearby Wisconsin, a very few of whom annoy the locals with manners which are, or are perceived as, loutish-prompting jokes like this one that made Rice Lake's coffee klatch rounds in 1995: Q: What's the difference between a cheesehead and a blockhead? A: The St. Croix River. Wisconsin vitriol for outsiders, however, is chiefly reserved for Illinoisans and especially for those from Chicago. These sentiments are sometimes returned. A student in one of my Folklore of Wisconsin classes, Glenn Tacke, interviewed fourteen residents of the two states regarding "The Wisconsin/Illinois Rivalry." Since Tacke had lived in both southern Wisconsin and northern Illinois, he also drew upon his own experience. High school friends from Illinois often jeered, "All there is in Wisconsin is beer and cheese and brats-why do you want to go there?" Dave Gray, of Crystal Lake, Illinois, exclaimed, "Those hillbillies, they don't know anything. 'Cheesehead' fits them perfectly." Hillbillies? Cheeseheads? Whence these names? "Hillbilly," applied early in this century to southern Appalachian mountaineers, has become a generic term throughout the United States. On the one hand, it may be used pejoratively by outsiders to suggest rustic dolts. But insiders, the "hillbillies" themselves, sometimes use the word to express satisfaction in their "backward," yet fiercely independent, ways. I have heard folks in northern Wisconsin, for example, refer to themselves rather proudly as hillbillies. A contingent from Jump River, in northwestern Taylor County, participates regularly in summer parades decked out as classic jug-toting ragged hillbillies in a rattletrap car. Names like "jackpine savages," suggesting wild dwellers of the northern pinery, and "stump jumpers," referring to the difficulties of farmers on logged-off or "cutover" acreage (for an explanation of the term "cutover," see chapter 10, Roger Mitchell's "Farm

12

Introduction

Talk from Marathon County," p. 93), are likewise declarations of independence when used by insiders and terms of ridicule when flung by outsiders. "Cheesehead" is similarly double-edged. Wisconsin cheese is known throughout the country. Billboards across Wisconsin, and particularly along the southern border with Illinois, tout the cheese, which tourists purchase from specialty shops. In the mid-1980s, when designs were submitted to replace the state's butter-colored license plates, then governor Tony Earl parodied New Hampshire's "Live Free or Die" motto to suggest that Wisconsin's might be "Eat Cheese or Die." Meanwhile, diehard fans of the Green Bay Packers and Milwaukee Brewers began appearing at games wearing on their heads cardboard triangles that were painted to resemble wedges of Swiss cheese. Mass-produced wedges of molded plastic soon lined retail shelves. Such regalia sparked a goofy pride in Wisconsin's chief export and its agrarian tradition. But the wedges have also exposed cheeseheads to taunts that they are rubes with brains of curdled milk. That these taunts have come most frequently from Illinois is hardly surprising. Wisconsin resorts have attracted Illinois residents in considerable numbers since the 1920s. The bulk of the tourists have come from the greater Chicago area and have typically patronized summer playgrounds all over the state of Wisconsin: Lake Geneva, the Wisconsin Dells, Door County, and the Minocqua-Woodruff area. Accustomed to a fast-paced urban lifestyle, some Chicagoans seek respite in the slower, rural rhythms of Wisconsin. Perhaps a few mistake their neighbors' style as a sign of stupidity. Wisconsinites, for their part, have mixed feelings about tourism. While some welcome the economic benefits of out-of-state visitors, others fear the consequences of excessive development by and for outsiders. Hence such terms of mild hostility as "Illinoyance," "Illinoitian," "flatlander," "berry picker," and "FIB." "Illinoyance" melds annoyance with Illinois. "Illinotian," like "martian," suggests visitors from another planet. "Flatlander," a counter to "hillbilly," refers to the flat prairies that occupy most of Illinois. "Berry picker" is a generic name for a tourist in northeastern Wisconsin; Pat Johnson, whom Glenn Tacke interviewed, attributes this term to the fact that bears often cross over into another bear's territory to eat berries. He adds that, in areas like Minocqua and Tomahawk, people from Illinois "just come up here to fish or boat for a week and then leave, they don't need to live with the litter or polluted lakes like we do." Finally, "FIB" stands for "fucking Illinois bastard." "FIP" (fucking Illinois person) and "FISH" (fucking Illinois shithead) have also entered the language of interstate rivalry. The "fish" sobriquet is reminiscent of "sucker," the common term for an Illinoisan among Wisconsin residents of the early nineteenth century. Adele Gratiot, who settled in Lafayette County in 1827, offered an explanation in her memoirs that might well fit the current seasonal visitations of tourists from the Land of Lincoln: Every spring, when the grass was high enough to afford pastures for their teams, large numbers would come and do all the heavy hauling during the summer, over beautiful prairies furnishing all they could desire. But at first frost they would all disappear not to return until

13

Introduction the next spring. Their habits of migration being exactly timed with that of a fish called the "sucker," which abounded in all the creeks and rivers, caused the people of the upper settlements to give that name to those of the lower [i.e. Illinois] counties. (Draper 1883-1885, quoted in Bicha 1992-1993: 123)

In contrast to fair-weather ""suckers," Wisconsin's hardier "Badgers" endured whatever the climate offered. While much of the jousting between Wisconsinites and Illinoisans exists informally on the folk level, some of it has been spurred by advertising agencies, corporations, municipalities, and the press. In late 1989, for example, Appleton's Fox Valley Chamber of Commerce issued a postcard, "Street Art," that juxtaposed urban Chicago with the "tranquility of Wisconsin." The card's Chicago side offered a chalkline around a homicide victim, while the Wisconsin side displayed a hopscotch course. Some Chicagoans sent the card to the late Chicago Tribune columnist Mike Royko. Royko cited the card as a "cheap shot" about a serious problem, then went on to malign natives of the Badger State as "cheeseheads ... content to chomp on bratwurst," and as deer-hunting, red-flannel-wearing, cow-kissing farm folk. The Associated Press picked up the "story" and it ran in various regional newspapers, including Madison's Capital Times where the February 2, 1990, headline read: "Hot Air Heats Up Badger War With Windy City." (As an etymological aside, I might add that the Second City's association with wind invariably reminds me that the name Chicago closely resembles zhigaag, an Algonquian word for skunk.) While Mike Royko's stereotypical portrait was delivered tongue in cheek, and while it hardly describes the cultural variety found within Wisconsin, it does comment on some cultural facts about the state. Considered as a whole, Wisconsin is different from its neighbors, and especially from its Chicago neighbors. Because of the cultural heritage of its people and the nature of its environment, Wisconsin folklore expresses an appreciation for ethnic pluralism, a fascination with the pleasures and horrors of small-town life, a gritty affection for the rigors of winter, and a rustic, egalitarianjoie de vive which, however unsophisticated, remains a source of genuine pride.

The Study of Wisconsin Folklore While verbal, musical, customary, and material folklore have been sustained vigorously by the many who have called Wisconsin home, that folklore's study has depended upon a few. The American Folklore Society, at the time of its formation in 1889, had but three Wisconsin members: Alice C. Chapman of Milwaukee, William F. Allen of the University of Wisconsin, and Ruben Gold Thwaites of the State Historical Society of Wisconsin (Camp 1989: 10). Five years later Gardner P. Stickney of Milwaukee grumbled that "The American Folklore Society ... is at present but feebly represented in Wisconsin" (Anonymous 1894: 162). The twentieth century, however, would tell a different story as the study of Wisconsin's diverse folklore has been undertaken by an array of scholars. Some have worked independently, but most have had the support of such organizations as the

14

Introduction

University of Wisconsin, the State Historical Society of Wisconsin, the Milwaukee Public Museum, the Smithsonian Institution, the Library of Congress, and an assortment of public arts and humanities agencies. United in their passion for documenting folklore, they have differed in focus and purpose to include: literary scholars with an appreciation of oral traditions, anthropologists and historians of museological bent; performers and writers of populist inclination; and ethnomusicologists, historic preservationists, and folklorists with a commitment to public culture.

Out of the Ivory Tower In 1919 Franz Rickaby traveled northern Wisconsin in search of narrative folksongs or ballads sung by the region's woods workers. Born in 1889 and raised in Springfield, Illinois, Rickaby distinguished himself as a poet and musician prior to earning an M.A. in English Literature from Harvard University in 1917. At the time Harvard was the center of American folksong scholarship. It was there that Francis James Child, an admirer of the Brothers Grimm, had compiled The English and Scottish Popular Ballads (1882-1898), a five-volume concordance of 305 ballad "types" or recurrent plots from the isle of Britain. An "armchair scholar" who worked only with Old World manuscript collections, Child nonetheless inspired a succession of genteel yet determined academic heirs to set down folksongs from the lips of their North American singers. One of them, the Texan John Lomax, published Cowboy Songs and Other Frontier Ballads in 1910. Franz Rickaby was likewise fascinated by the frontier, in his case America's "Old Northwest," the "lumberjack frontier" of Michigan, Wisconsin, and Minnesota. Here he believed the isolated, dangerous, and demanding work of loggers would, as had been the case with cowboys, generate comic, heroic, and tragic ballads of the sort that flourished along the contested borderland of England and Scotland. Rickaby's Ballads and Songs of the Shanty-Boy (1926), published a year after his premature death from heart failure, was the nation's first full treatment of lumber camp folksongs (Greene 1968; Leary 1996). In addition to including texts, tunes, and annotations for such classic ballads as "The Jam on Gerry's Rock" and "The Little Brown Bulls," Ballads and Songs ofthe Shanty-Boy revealed the powerful influence of Irish ceilidh traditions on lumber camp performance, while sketching the biography of Wausau's William N. "Billy" Allen-a timber cruiser and logger poet whose "Driving Saw Logs on the Plover," "On the Banks of the Little Eau Pleine," and "Shanty Boy on the Big Eau Claire" were widely sung throughout upper Midwestern lumber camps (Laws 1964: 147-48, 152,261). The preoccupation of Franz Rickaby with what he called a "cultural frontier" was sparked not only by Francis James Child, but also by Frederick Jackson Turner, the University of Wisconsin historian whose "frontier thesis," propounded in a series of essays beginning in 1893, conjoined the American character with the westward pursuit of land. Curiously, while Rickaby found Wisconsin's "cultural frontier" epitomized in the folk ballads of William N. Allen, Frederick Jackson Turner drew fundamental inspiration from another William Allen-William F. Allen, one of Wis-

15

Introduction

consin's trio of charter members of the American Folklore Society. William Francis Allen (1830-1889) was born in Northborough, Massachusetts, to an extended family of farmers, Unitarians, and abolitionists. Musically adept and an 1851 Harvard graduate in history and philology, Allen journeyed to the Sea Islands of South Carolina in November 1863 to teach newly freed slaves in a school sponsored by the Educational Commission for Freedmen (Epstein 1977: 304-10). There he became fascinated with the songs of former slaves and, in collaboration with Charles Pickard Ware and Lucy McKim Garrison, published Slave Songs ofthe United States (1867)-the first serious study of African American music and the work that launched the acceptance of "Negro spirituals" into America's musical canon. A member of the University of Wisconsin's faculty from 1868 until his death, William F. Allen undertook no more folklore research. Yet his folkloristic foray beyond the ivory tower imbued him with what was at the time "the heretical doctrine that scholars should use every possible tool in their quest for truth." Frederick Jackson Turner regarded Allen as the seminal influence on his own work, rem-arking: "I have never, in Johns Hopkins or elsewhere, ever seen his equal as a scholar" (Billington 1973: 36, 31). The frontier, folklore, and woods workers likewise combined to fascinate K. Bernice Stewart and Homer A. Watt, respectively an undergraduate student and an English instructor at the University of Wisconsin. In 1916 Stewart and Watt coauthored the first scholarly assessment of the legendary timber giant Paul Bunyan (reprinted in this anthology, pp. 139-48). And like Rickaby and Turner, they drew inspiration from a mentor of interdisciplinary mien, Arthur Beatty. Beatty (1869-1943) was an Ontario native who heard the tall tales of woods workers while growing up. Having just earned his Ph.D. from Columbia University, Beatty joined the English faculty at the University of Wisconsin in 1898. Primarily a specialist on the English romantic poets, and William Wordsworth in particular, Beatty was at Columbia during the early tenure of Franz Boas, the father of modern anthropology and the editor of the Journal ofAmerican Folklore from 1908 to 1924. Sojourning in anthropological fashion beyond the literary scholar's ivory tower, Beatty contributed articles that included Anglo-Celtic folk ballads sung in Wisconsin to the Journal ofAmerican Folklore in 1907 and 1909. As a teacher, Arthur Beatty exerted a significant influence not only on Stewart and Watt, but also on Stith Thompson, the most internationally respected folklorist of this century, the eventual founder of the Folklore Institute at Indiana University, and the author of such essential works of folktale scholarship as The Types of the Folktale (with Antti Aarne, 1928), Tales of the North American Indians (1929), The MotifIndex ofFolk Literature (1932-1936), and The Folktale (1946). Under Beatty's tutelage, Stith Thompson completed his undergraduate degree in English at the University of Wisconsin in 1909, undertook his first comparative folklore research on the recurrent narrative forms (or "types") and the smaller plot elements (or "motifs") of folksongs and folktales, and delved into the folklore of American Indians. Until his death, Arthur Beatty "remained an advisor to Thompson" (Martin ca. 1977: 4; see also Thompson 1996: 35-39, 89).

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Introduction

Relics of Vanishing Cultures Arthur Beatty's interest in the oral traditions of American Indians, unusual for a literary scholar of his generation, is perhaps attributable to his Ontario upbringing, Columbia training, and professional life in Wisconsin at a time when the state's richly diverse native cultures were undergoing scrutiny by a succession of anthropologists. J. E. Fletcher's "Manners and Customs of the Winnebago" (1854) is perhaps the first work focused exclusively on the folklore of any of Wisconsin's Woodland Indian peoples-although one might make an argument for the editor of the work in which Fletcher's essay appears, Henry Rowe Schoolcraft. Schoolcraft (1 7931864) was an Indian agent at Sault Sainte Marie, Michigan, who married into a metis (mixed Indian and European) family from whom he gained a remarkable understanding of Ojibwe cultural traditions. His Algie Researches: Indian Tales and Legends (1839), chiefly concerning Ojibwe storytelling, was the first full study of American Indian folklore. It includes many narratives still told among Wisconsin's Ojibwe peoples (in this anthology, see "Wenabozho and the Birds" from the telling of Dee Bainbridge, pp. 126-27). Like Henry Rowe Schoolcraft, the first anthropologists to document the folklore of Wisconsin's native peoples were employed or sponsored by the federal government, particularly by the Smithsonian Institution's Bureau of American Ethnology established by Major John Wesley Powell, an erstwhile natural scientist, in 1880 (Feintuch 1988: 251-52). The Bureau's workers largely subscribed to notions of cultural evolution derived from Charles Darwin's concepts of natural selection: "simple," "primitive" cultures were slowly but surely "vanishing" before the advance of more "complex" and "civilized" Euro-Alnerican culture. It was the duty of the anthropologist, therefore, to salvage what cultural relics still remained. This mission included not only the representative documentation-through writing, still photography, sound recording, and film-of an array of traditional verbal, musical, customary, and material traditions, but also the physical procurement of artifacts. Nor was the Smithsonian Institution, the "nation's museum," alone in its acquisitive zeal. Museums of natural history-whose purview included both the natural world and indigenous cultures-proliferated and competed throughout the United States, rivaled of course, by private collectors and dealers. Notions of their inevitable disappearance to the contrary, Wisconsin's HoChunk, Menominee, Ojibwe, Oneida, Potawatomi, and Stockbridge-Munsee cultures-as complex and civilized as any other-have persisted, albeit through many changes, along their own evolutionary lines. Yet despite premature, wrongheaded, ethnocentric notions about native cultures, the pioneering anthropologists investigating Wisconsin's Woodland Indian folklore succeeded in documenting an abundance of significant traditions. And indeed most were attracted to their work less for its relationship to an abstract theory than for its immediate testimony to the variety, dignity, and artistry of the human experience. The cavalcade of anthropologists concerned with the folklore of Wisconsin's

17

Introduction

Woodland Indians from the end of the nineteenth century through roughly the first half of the twentieth hegins with Walter J. Hoffman, who from 1888 to 1891 published five articles in the fledgling American Anthropologist, and for the Smithsonian's Bureau of American Ethnology concerning the religious practices, games, and mythology of Ojibwe and Menominee peoples. Thereafter such researchers as Victor Barnouw, Samuel A. Barrett, Frances Densmore, Albert Jenks, William Jones, Truman Michelson, Paul Radin, Robert Ritzenthaler, Alanson Skinner, and Huron Smith-affiliated variously with the American Museum of Natural History, the Bureau of American Ethnology, and the Milwaukee Public Museum-chronicled everything from wild ricing customs and technology (Jenks 1902) to the building of birchbark canoes (Ritzenthaler 1950), from ceremonial dances (Barrett 1911) to place names and their narratives (Skinner 1919). Frances Densmore (1867-1957) was arguably the most continuously active, prolific, and versatile anthropological chronicler of Wisconsin's American Indian peoples. Born in Red Wing, Minnesota, Densmore displayed an early aptitude for music, earning a degree in the subject from Oberlin College. In 1892 she heard a lecture by John Comfort Fillmore of Wisconsin's Ripon College on American Indian Music (regarding Fillmore, see Clements 1986: 217-18)..A.nd soon after, she met Alice Fletcher, author of A Study of Omaha Indian Music (1893), who would make pioneering sound recordings of Omaha singers from 1895 to 1897 (Lee and La Vigna 1985). Inspired by Fillmore and Fletcher, Frances Densmore turned her attention to the Woodland Indians of the Upper Midwest. She began dubiously with a series of public performances consisting, in the manner of the era's genteel composers, of native music arranged for the piano. These parlor exercises were soon abandoned along with, eventually, the evolutionary theories of her anthropological predecessors. By 1901, Frances Densmore had commenced fieldwork with the Upper Midwest's Ojibwe singers, and in 1907 she began an affiliation with the Smithsonian's Bureau of American Ethnology that would last until her death. Notwithstanding this association, Frances Densmore's work "became increasingly independent" in the estimation of American folklore scholarship's leading historian, W. K. McNeil: Her notes clearly indicate that the people she interviewed in her fieldwork were every bit as exciting to her as their music. Densmore considered herself to be a musical archeologist, digging up the songs of yesterday but, unlike some collectors with similar aims, avoiding hasty work and a sense of urgency that might antagonize informants. She preferred showing respect for these people as individuals, an attitude that helped developed a relaxed relationship with those from whom she collected. (McNeil 1996: 200; see also Vennum 1973)

The legacy of Frances Densmore regarding Wisconsin's Woodland Indian peoples includes published monographs on Chippewa Music (1910, 1913) and Menominee Music (1932); an unpublished book on Winnebago Music (1940); two documentary sound recordings produced by the Archive of American Folksong in the Library of Congress, Songs of the Chippewas (L22) and Songs of the Menominee, Mandan and Hidatsa (L33); hundreds of sound recordings and ethnographic photographs housed

18

Introduction

at the Library of Congress; and the first comprehensive study of Chippewa Customs

(1929).

The Art of the People A woman in a male-dominated profession, an erstwhile practitioner of western art music whose energies turned to "primitive" performance, and a tireless field researcher who almost singlehandedly captured the music of Wisconsin's first peoples amidst radical cultural changes, Frances Densmore was also the precursor of Helene Stratman-Thomas who, like Densmore, was supported by a federal agency, the Archive of American Folksong of the Library of Congress. Stratman-Thomas (1896-1973) was born in Dodgeville, in southwestern Wisconsin. Although a German grandfather and nearby Cornish neighbors sang folksongs and Welsh hymns reverberated from a nearby church, her musical training was chiefly institutional and refined. She received bachelor's and master's degrees in music from the University of Wisconsin, then joined the faculty, where she taught courses and conducted the women's chorus. In 1939 Professor Leland Coon of the University's music department sought funding from the Library of Congress to document the state's folk music, ultimately tendering the project to Helene StratmanThomas. Neither folk nor folklorist, she warmed to the task. State and federally sponsored folksong collecting flourished as never before just prior to World War II as fieldworkers labored for the Farm Security Administration, the Works Progress Administration, and the Library of Congress. Guided by tenets of populism and pluralism, these agencies and their workers extended previous documentary emphases on rural English-speaking blacks and whites to include peoples whose first tongue was "foreign" (Hickerson 1982). And so in the summers of 1940, 1941, and 1946, Helene Stratman-Thomas and a shifting trio of recording engineers visited forty-one counties in Wisconsin where more than 150 individual and group performers-representing over thirty Euro-, Native, and African American traditions in nearly as many languages-regaled them with over seven hundred secular songs, sacred hymns, and instrumental dance tunes (Stratman-Thomas 1948; Peters 1977). Her efforts placed Wisconsin alongside California, Florida, Michigan, and Texas as the first states to document a broad range of non-Anglophone musical traditions (fig. 1.3). Historic within the national context of folksong collection, Stratman-Thomas's work was also propitious with regard to Wisconsin's cultural evolution. The state was not yet a century old in 1941. There were many still-active singers and musicians whose traditions were rooted in Woodland Indian ways of life, in European village celebrations, in lumber camp entertainments, and in the festivities of preindustrialized and small-town existence. At the same time, private and public schooling in music, printed song books, phonograph records, radios, and "opera houses" hosting traveling professionals were engendering vernacular syntheses of folk and popular musical cultures.

19

1.3. Pioneering field researcher Helene Stratman-Thomas with traditional singer Harry Dyer, a former logger and Mississippi riverman, Madison, 1941. State Historical Society of Wisconsin, WHi (S75) 9.

20

Introduction

Buoyed by ideological currents, federal dollars, and a wealth of musical performers, Stratman-Thomas was also aided by technological advances. By 1940, reliable cars, improved roads, rural electrification, and newly available, bulky-yetportable recording equipment made it possible to capture music almost anywhere. We do not know if Helene Stratman-Thomas intended to survey Wisconsin systematically, but with the exception of Milwaukee (where she recorded just one singer despite the abundant presence of traditional musical cultures that persist today) and the extreme northeast (where Iron County's curiously neglected Gogebic Range continues to sustain diverse folk musical traditions), her forays extended from Superior to Kenosha, from Platteville to Rhinelander, and to numerous points between (Leary 1987). The efforts of Helene Stratman-Thomas, undertaken within the national context of Franklin D. Roosevelt's New Deal, also coincided with her own university's embrace of the "Wisconsin Idea," an activist philosophy characterized by a commitment to public service and by the notion that "the boundaries of the University are the boundaries of the state" (Stark 1995). Most commonly associated with scientific, agrarian, economic, and public policy endeavors, the Wisconsin Idea has been applied as well to cultural matters. In 1934, for example, University of Wisconsin Agriculture and Rural Sociology faculty worked with Slovak immigrant farmers in the community of Moquah, in Ashland County. Professor G. Humphrey ... was often a speaker and cattle judge during the Moquah Guernsey Fair Days, held yearly usually August 15 at Moquah. It was Profesor Humphrey that acquainted the Department of Rural Sociology at Madison of the customs of the Slovak people at Moquah. As a result the Department of Rural Sociology sent Miss Amy Gessner to Moquah to acquaint herself with the people, and asked them to put on a program for her. A program of Slovak dances and songs were held in the school house basement. The music was provided by Mr. Philip Johanik, Jr, who played his accordion, and Rudy and Paul Letko played home made drums. This program was so successful that Professor A. F. Wileden of the Department of Rural Sociology requested a program for himself and two other members of the department. Receiving much encouragement the group decided to organize. (Novak 1966: 29; Leary 1981)

Soon the Slovaks were performing throughout northern Wisconsin at Civilian Conservation Corps camps, county fairs, community picnics, and for school children (fig. 1.4). And although this group disbanded in 1940, the children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren of its members have participated in similar Slovak dance groups through to the 1990s. By not only offering scientific and technical assistance, but also encouraging Moquah's Slovak Americans to perform and display aspects of their folk culture, Professors Humphrey, Wileden, and Miss Gessner conjoined the Wisconsin Idea with the "Settlement House" movement established by Jane Addams. Intended to help newcomers adapt to American life, Addams's movement also stressed that the retention and public presentation of folk costumes, music, and dance might simultaneously promote immigrants' morale while encouraging their neighbors' tolerance (Addams 1981; Lloyd 1997). Humanists and artists were the most active of the University of Wisconsin's

21

Introduction

1.4. The Moquah Slovak Dancers in heirloom immigrant clothing typical of the Carpathian Mountains: the women arrayed in lace caps, bodices, and aprons, the men in woolen vests and pants. Bayfield County, mid-1930s. Courtesy Jerry Novak.

faculty in bringing Addams's notions and the Wisconsin Idea to bear upon the state's folk cultures. Prominent among them were: John Steuart Curry and Aaron Bohrod, who encouraged rural people to portray their occupational and ethnic cultures through painting and carving (Barton 1948); the Norwegian linguist Einar Haugen, who broadcast programs on Scandinavian and Scandinavian American folklore over Wisconsin Public Radio; and the dramatist, novelist, and storyteller Robert E. Gard. A native Kansan, Gard (1910-1992) came to the University of Wisconsin in 1945 after stints directing the New York State Playwriting Project (1938--1943) and the Alberta (Canada) Folklore and Local History Project (1943-1945). Robert Gard was deeply influenced by Frederick H. Koch, founder of the Carolina Playmakers and "the major figure in American folk drama in the 1920s" (Glassberg 1990: 242; quoted in Lloyd 1997). Koch was in turn inspired by the Irish Dramatic Movement wherein Lady Gregory, John Millington Synge, William Butler Yeats, and other romantic nationalists drew upon the folklore of Irish peasants to create a literature that they hoped would convey the spirit and the art of the people. Robert Gard attempted the same for the people of Wisconsin: Card, both in his own writing and in his conception of theater, was a regionalist, a believer that persons could create valid and significant art by describing experiences that were unique to the area in which they lived. He turned first to developing playwrights. One of his methods was to present a weekly radio program, "Wisconsin Yarns," in which he communicated Wisconsin folk material that could be used by playwrights. (Stark 1995: 155)

22

Introduction

One such playwright was David C. Peterson, Card's colleague within the University of Wisconsin's Department of Continuing Education in the Arts. From the 1960s until his retirement in 1994, Peterson wrote and produced dozens of regionally based plays incorporating the folklore of Wisconsin's farmers, loggers, Creat Lakes sailors, Woodland Indians, European ethnics, and African Americans. As for Robert Card, he wrote, coauthored, compiled, or contributed to some forty books, including several directly concerning the folklore of Wisconsin: Down in the Valley (1971); The Romance of Wisconsin Place Names (1968); The Trail of the Serpent: The Fox River Valley Lore and Legend (1973); and Wisconsin Lore (1962). Yet unlike Helene Stratman-Thomas, who carefully recorded the individual voices of Wisconsin's traditional musicians, Robert Card most often invoked the state's folk raconteurs in his own voice, an Anglo-Kansan drawl. Indeed he was prone to "folksy up" or even invent the actual speech of Wisconsin talkers, whatever their dialects, until it conformed with the sort of homogenized aw-shucks inflections expected of generic rural Midwesterners within American popular culture. One rural storyteller Card had met, Dale Muller of La Farge, put it this way: "Bob Card came around here. And I've seen his books. Everybody sounds the same. They all sound like they've got a straw hanging out of their mouth" (Wagler 1997). Robert Card was hardly unique in his methods. Like many fellow champions of the art of the people-indeed, like most writers who have sought to popularize folklore amongst as broad an audience as possible-Robert Card purported to deliver the real stuff of folklore, when in fact it often served as raw material to be made over in his own romantic compositions. Such criticisms notwithstanding, it is important to remember that Robert Card's chief motive was not to document regional folklore, but to stimulate a region's people to write-and in that regard he succeeded admirably.

Toward Cultural Democracy Robert Card's regionalist notion that we might find the universal in the local, that we might view the world in our own backyards, has been vigorously endorsed in recent decades by an array of scholars with a common interest in Wisconsin's rich folklore. Sometimes toiling together, often in conjunction with various state, federal, and private nonprofit organizations, they include dedicated amateurs, historic preservationists, ethnomusicologists, and folklorists. Evidence of their work suffuses this anthology. And like Robert Card, one among many regionally based populist writers and dramatists, today's chroniclers of and advocates for Wisconsin's folklore have all been partisans in a larger cultural movement spawned by the dream of a truly inclusive "Creat Society" that came swirling out of the 1960s. A "public folklore" movement has emerged in America, and in Wisconsin, over the past quarter century (Baron and Spitzer] 992; Feintuch 1988). The Folklore Institute initiated in 1948 at Indiana University by Wisconsin alumnus Stith Thompson was flourishing by the 1970s, as were academic folklore programs in a handful of other universities. Schooled in intellectual inquiry, their students were

23

Introduction

also moved by social activism, by the desire to increase and apply their knowledge, to scrutinize and to serve. During that decade the Smithsonian Institution's fledgling Office of Folklife Programs and Cultural Studies came of age through the production, amidst the nation's 1976 bicentennial, of a twelve-week "Festival of American Folklife"- a massive accomplishment staged appropriately on Washington, D.C.'s, Mall and realized through the hired labor of scores of young folklore graduate students and hundreds of traditional artists and musicians from every part of the country. The mid-1970s likewise saw the creation of the American Folklife Center in the Library of Congress. Since its inception, the Center has succeeded not only in the expansion and increased accessibility of the Library's Archive of American Folksong, but also in working with the Department of the Interior, the National Park Service especially, to ensure that the conservation of America's heritage includes those cultural resources, both tangible and intangible, residing in the folklore of our nation's varied peoples. Since the late 1970s the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA), and to a lesser extent the National Endowment for the Humanities, have also fostered the documentation, preservation, practice, and public presentation of folklore, especially through the NEA's Folk Arts Program. Under the leadership of Bess Lomax Hawes, the Folk Arts Program has made grant funds available to establish parallel programs in every state. State folk arts programs in turn undertook projects and offered grants to encourage further grassroots recognition of America's varied folklore. So it was that in Wisconsin, Philip Martin and Lewis Koch acquired federal and state grants in the late 1970s to record and photograph old-time Norwegian fiddlers, to launch a spate of media productions, and eventually to found, in Martin's case, the Wisconsin Folk Museum. So it was that William Tishler and Arnold Alanen of the University of Wisconsin's Department of Landscape Architecture, and Alan Pape of the Wisconsin Ethnic Settlement Trail (WEST), have been able to undertake the documentation and preservation of Wisconsin's ethnic folk architecture in local communities, historic districts, state and national parks, and through the State Historical Society's Old World Wisconsin-an outdoor museum of ethnic farmsteads that rivals the great folk museums established in Europe in the nineteenth century. Wisconsin's currently active public folklore veterans also include: Thomas Vennum Jr., senior ethnomusicologist for the Smithsonian Institution's Office of Folklife Programs and Cultural Studies, whose research among Woodland Indians, especially the Ojibwe, has resulted in books, sound recordings, and films chronicling powwows, drum making, wild ricing, and canoe building; Richard March, traditional and ethnic arts coordinator for the Wisconsin Arts Board, who created an apprenticeship program for traditional artists, helped broaden the audience for regional folk music through the "Down Home Dairyland" program on Wisconsin Public Radio, and oversaw the staging of Wisconsin's 1998 sesquicentennial folklife festival; Janet Gilmore, an independent folklorist and former curator of the Wisconsin Folk Museum, whose painstaking investigations of women's handiwork traditions and of the folklife of commercial fishers have resulted in exhibits, publications, and media productions; and Robert T. Teske, director of the Cedarburg Cultural Center, who

24

Introduction

has produced a quartet of traveling folk art exhibits and corresponding catalogs, most recently Wisconsin Folk Art: A Sesquicentennial Celebration (1998). My own life and work have been bound with all of these people and with the full range of public folklore institutions. In June, 1975, as a young graduate student in folklore at Indiana University, I sought advice from Robert Gard prior to teaching a short course in Wisconsin Folklore at the University of Wisconsin's two-year campus in my hometown, Rice Lake. Later that summer, while photographing log buildings in Wisconsin's cutover, I met Bill Tishler and Arnie Alanen, who were conducting a survey of rural architecture from a base near Drummond. In 1976, Tom Vennum and I both worked for the Smithsonian Institution's summer-long bicentennial Festival of American Folklife, and our fieldwork excursions in northern Wisconsin have overlapped ever since. That fall Richard March-then likewise an Indiana folklore graduate student-and I gathered information on Wisconsin's ethnic communties for the Center for Twentieth-Century Studies at the University of WisconsinMilwaukee-the first of our many, mostly folk-music-related collaborations -including the coproduction of more than 150 "Down Home Dairyland" radio programs. From 1980 to 1981, Janet Gilmore and I lived in Washburn, on Chequamegon Bay, where, thanks to a grant from the Folk Arts Program of the National Endowment for the Arts, I recorded the music and life histories of ethnic groups in the Lake Superior region. Janet meanwhile augmented her knowledge of Pacific Northwest commercial fishers with the practices of those working the Great Lakes. In 1985 I worked with Phil Martin and Lewis Koch on the first of many collaborative projects, this one concerning Wisconsin's German music. Three years later Janet and I would rent an office from Martin in Mount Horeb's Wisconsin Folk Museum, and we remained affiliated with that organization, acquiring grants and producing exhibits, until its demise in 1995. Since 1986, when Milwaukeean Bob Teske returned to Wisconsin after service with the NEA's Folk Arts Program, Janet and I have done research and written essays for a succession of "Teske-produced" folk art exhibits. I have also had the good fortune to teach "Folklore of Wisconsin" and other courses at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, since the Folklore Program's inception in 1984. With the current generation of Wisconsin folklore scholars, I share a commitment to cultural democracy, to the conviction that we cannot understand the full range of Wisconsin's cultural life without recognizing that Ho-Chunk and lumber camp storytellers must be celebrated alongside such Wisconsin novelists as Edna Ferber, Zona Gale, Hamlin Garland, and Glenway Wescott; that the floral designs of Ojibwe beadworkers and Norwegian rosemalers yield as much in their own way as the images of Georgia O'Keeffe; that powwow drums and polka bands say more about who we are than symphonies and that the builders of Belgian bake ovens, Finnish log houses, German bank barns, and Polish shrines should be no less known than the visionary architect Frank Lloyd Wright. Indeed our ongoing research, publications, and especially our public programs concerning Wisconsin's diverse folk cultural traditions contend that folklore, beyond its "raw" utility for "fine" artists, eloquently articulates the experience and aspirations of paradoxically ordinary yet extraordinary people, and that it more than merits consideration in its own right.

25

Introduction

1.5. James P. Leary interviews concertinist Bob Mathiowetz in the basement "music room" of his Ashland home, 1990. Photo: Don Albrecht, Wisconsin Folk Museum Collection.

Charles Edward Brown Certainly Charles Brown recognized the intrinsic worth of Wisconsin's varied folklore. Pioneer, participant, and prophet, Brown contributed to or anticipated every phase of the study of Wisconsin folklore. Charles Edward Brown (1872-1946) was born in Milwaukee. As a young man, he worked with American Indian collections at the Milwaukee Public Museum, then served as a curator of ethnology within the larger Louisiana Purchase Exposition in St. Louis, where he mingled with the era's distinguished anthropologists and archeologists. Brown was a founder and the secretary of the Wisconsin Archeological Society from 1903 to 1940, and served likewise as editor of The Wisconsin Archeologist. In 1908 he became director of the Wisconsin State Historical Museum, a post he held until retirement in 1944. Charles Brown was also named to the University of Wisconsin faculty in 1915 and taught courses in anthropology and museum administration (Halpert 1985). Brown fixed his earliest efforts on creating "a statewide interest in the collection and preservation of Wisconsin folklore" at 1910, when he instituted a series of summer session programs on the University of Wisconsin's campus. Brown's first folklore publication concerned the legend of Paul Bunyan (Brown 1922). From 1922 through 1945, Brown authored some thirty Wisconsin-related pamphlets on topics ranging from lumber camp narratives to settlers' yams, the legends of ghosts and monsters,

26

Introduction

the mythology of Woodland Indians, and the lore of flora and fauna. Brown also published occasional articles on Wisconsin folklore in the Hoosier Folklore Bulletin and The Wisconsin Archeologist, a publication that included numerous folklore entries under Brown's editorship. From 1935 to 1938, Brown was instrumental in establishing a Wisconsin Folklore Project, based at the State Historical Museum, but largely funded by Roosevelt's WPA. Dorothy Moulding Miller (whom Brown eventually married) directed the Project, which supported clerical staff and several field researchers who investigated the folklore of ethnic and occupational cultures. During that period Charles Brown also assisted the National Folk Festival-America's still vibrant and oldest multicultural folk festival-in the inclusion of such traditional Wisconsin performers as Rice Lake's Otto Rindlisbacher and the Wisconsin Lumberjacks; Ho-Chunk singers and dancers; a troupe of Swiss yodelers and musicians from New Glarus and Monroe; a quartet of Norwegians from McFarland who played the psalmodikon (a plucked one-string instrument originally used to accompany hymns); Oconto French Canadian singer Mary Agnes Starr; and Milwaukee's Mazur Polish Dancers. In 1939 Brown and Miller formed the Wisconsin Folklore Society which, besides issuing the couple's pamphlets, sought to foster a larger understanding of Wisconsin folklore by offering courses to summer school students at the University of Wisconsin. Brown also organized "sunset folklore meetings" on the terrace of the University's Memorial Union. Those gathered included Einar Haugen, the era's foremost authority in the realm of Scandinavian American Studies, the distinguished dialect scholar Frederic G. Cassidy (see chapter 9, "Apple-Picking Terms from Wisconsin," pp. 85-88), and Helene Stratman-Thomas from the University's School of Music. More than forty years would pass before a similar resurgence of folklore scholarship would occur at the University of Wisconsin. It is hard to imagine a more dedicated and productive life in the service of Wisconsin's folklore than that of Charles Edward Brown. Yet as a graduate student, seeking to understand the study of Wisconsin folklore I once dismissed the few fragments of Brown's career I had then glimpsed through publications and papers lodged in the State Historical Society of Wisconsin. With youthful ignorance I held Brown to scholarly standards not established until after his death. My published annotations of his pamphlets, including Bluenose Brainard Stories (1943), even criticized Brown for offering "literary versions of presumably oral tales," for eliminating bawdy elements, for not revealing the sources from whom he acquired the tales, and for revealing nothing about the contexts in which they were originally told (Leary 1982: 57-59). Fortunately, Herbert Halpert, a distinguished folklorist and someone who knew Brown slightly in the 1930s, chided me gently: We must bear in mind that the modern stress on presenting context, on giving the storyteller's exact words ... , and today's freedom to publish the obscene and scatological are largely post-World War II phenomena. Brown's texts, though obviously not in the language of the storytellers, are quite straightforward and not over-embellished. His small collections provide

27

Introduction

us with welcome evidence of the existence of certain story traditions that might otherwise have been lost. To protest that he failed to use currently approved folklore methods is unhistorical. (Halpert 1985: 56-57)

Hence I offer this history of the study of Wisconsin folklore, as well as the annotations which accompany this anthology's entries, in atonement and as a tribute to the life and work of Charles Edward Brown. Without his visionary efforts we would know far less.

Sources Addams, Jane. 1981. Twenty Years at Hull House. New York: New American Library. Anonymous. 1894. "Wisconsin Branch." Journal ofAmerican Folklore 7:25, 162. Baron, Robert, and Nicholas R. Spitzer. 1992. Public Folklore. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press. Barrett, Samuel A. 1911. "The Dream Dance of the Chippewa and Menominee Indians of Northern Wisconsin." Bulletin ofthe Public Museum ofthe City ofMilwaukee 1:251-406. Barton, John Rector. 1948. Rural Artists of Wisconsin. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press. Beatty, Arthur. 1907. "Some New Ballad Variants." Journal of American Folklore 20:77, 154-56. Beatty, Arthur. 1909. "Some Ballad Variants and Songs." Journal of American Folklore 22:83,63-71. Bercovici, Konrad. 1925. On New Shores. New York and London: The Century Company. Bicha, Karel D. 1992-1993. "From Where Come the Badgers?" Wisconsin Magazine ofHistory 76:2 (Winter): 121-31. Billington, Ray Allen. 1973. Frederick Jackson Turner: Historian, Scholar, Teacher. New York: Oxford University Press. Brown, Charles E. 1922. American Folk Lore: Paul Bunyan. Madison: State Historical Society of Wisconsin. Brown, Charles E. 1943. Bluenose Brainard Stories: Log Cabin Tales From the Chippewa Valley in the Wisconsin North Woods. Madison: Wisconsin Folklore Society. Brown, Charles E. 1943. "Wisconsin Folklore Society." Journal of American Folklore 56:221, 190-91. Camp, Charles, ed. 1989. "Members of the American Folklore Society, 1989." In Time and Temperature: A Centennial Publication ofthe American Folklore Society. Washington, D.C.: The American Folklore Society. Clements, William. 1986. Native American Folklore in Nineteenth Century Periodicals. Athens, Ohio: Ohio University Press. Conga Se Menne. 1994. Finnish Reggae and Other Sauna Beats. Conga Records. CD recording, CR94-1CD. Draper, Lyman C., ed. 1883-1885. "Adele De P. Gratiot's Narrative." Wisconsin Historical Collections 10:268. Feintuch, Burt, ed. 1988. The Conservation of Culture: Folklorists and the Public Sector. Lexington: University Press of Kentucky. Fletcher, Alice. 1893. A Study of Omaha Indian Music. Cambridge, Mass.: Archaeological and Ethnological Papers of the Peabody Museum, vol. 1, no. 5.

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Introduction

Fletcher, J. E. 1854. "Manners and Customs of the Winnebagoes." In Information Respecting the History, Condition, and Prospects of the Indian Tribes in the United States, vol. 4, ed. Henry R. Schoolcraft. Philadelphia: Lippencott, Grambo, and Co., 51-59. Glassberg, David. 1990. American Historical Pageantry: The Uses of Tradition in the Early Twentieth Century. Chapel Hill: University of North, Carolina Press. Greene, Daniel W. 1968. " 'Fiddle and 1': The Story of Franz Rickaby." Journal ofAmerican Folklore 81:322, :~16-36. Halpert, Herbert. 1985. "A Note On Charles E. Brown and Wisconsin Folklore." Midwestern Journal of Language and Folklore 11:1, 54-59. Hickerson, Joseph. 1982. "Early Field Recordings of Ethnic Music." In Ethnic Recordings in America, ed. Judith McCulloh. Washington, D.C.: Library of Congress, 67-83. Hoffman, Walter J. 1888. "Pictography and Shamanistic Rites of the Ojibwas." American Anthropologist 1, 209-29. Hoffman, Walter J. 1889. "Notes on Ojibwa Folklore." American Anthropologist 2, 215-23. Hoffman, Walter J. 1890. "The Mythology of the Menomini Indians." American Anthropologist 3,243-58. Hoffman, Walter J. 1890. "Remarks on Ojibwa Ball Play." American Anthropologist 3, 133-35. Hoffman, Walter J. 1891. "The Midewiwin or 'Grand Medicine Society' of the Ojibwa." Seventh Annual Report of the Bureau ofAmerican Ethnology, 1885-1886. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution. 143-300. Jenks, Albert E. 1902. "The Wild-Rice Gatherers of the Upper Lakes: A Study in American Primitive Economics." Nineteenth Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology, 1900. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution. Part 2, 1013-1137. Laws, G. Malcolm. 1964. Native American Balladry. Philadelphia: American Folklore Society. Leary, James P. 1981. "The Musical Traditions of Moquah's Slovaks." North Country Folk 1:4,4-8. Leary, James P. 1982. "An Annotated Bibliography of Wisconsin Folklore." Midwestern Journal ofLanguage and Folklore 8: I, 52-81. Leary, James P. 1987. The Wisconsin Patchwork: A Companion to the Radio Programs Based on the Field Recordings of Helene Stratman- Thomas. Madison: University of Wisconsin, Department of Continuing Education in the Arts. Leary, James P. 1996. "Franz Rickaby." In American Folklore: An Encyclopedia, ed. Jan Harold Brunvand. New York: Garland. 625. Lee, Dorothy Sara, and Maria La Vigna. 1985. Omaha Indian Music: Historical Recordings from the Fletcher/La Flesche Collection. Washington, D.C.: American Folklife Center, Library of Congress. LP recording and booklet, AFC L71. Lloyd, Timothy. 1996. "Whole Work, Whole Play, Whole People: Folklore and Social Therapeutics in 1920s and 1930s America." Journal ofAmerican Folklore 110:437,239-59. Martin, Peggy. [ca. 1977]. Stith Thompson: His Life and His Role in Folklore Scholarship. Bloomington: Folklore Publications Group, Indiana University. Monograph Series, vol. 2. McNeil, W. K. 1996. "Frances Densmore." In American Folklore: An Encyclopedia, ed. Jan Harold Brunvand. ~ew York: Garland. 200. Mitchell, Roger. 1979. "The Press, Rumor, and Legend Formation." Midwestern Journal of Language and Folklore 5:1-2. Special issue. Novak, Jerry. 1966. The History of the Moquah Area. Ashland, Wisc.: Northland College Press.

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Introduction

Peters, Harry. 1977. Folksongs Out of Wisconsin. Madison: State Historical Society of Wisconsin. Rickaby, Franz. 1926. Ballads and Songs ofthe Shanty-Boy. Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press. Rippley, LaVern J. 1985. The Immigrant Experie,nce in Wisconsin. Boston: Twayne. Ritzenthaler, Robert. 1950. "Building a Chippewa Indian Birchbark Canoe." Bulletin of the Public Museum ofthe City ofMilwaukee 9:2, 1-47. Schoolcraft, Henry Rowe. 1839. Algie Researches: Indian Tales and Legends. New York: Harper and Brothers; reprinted with an introduction by W K. McNeil in 1992. Baltimore: The Clearfield Company. Skinner, Alanson. 1919. "Some Menomini Place Names in Wisconsin." The Wisconsin Archeologist 18:3. Stark, Jack. 1995. "The Wisconsin Idea: The University's Service to the State." In Wisconsin Blue Book 1995-1996, compiled by the Wisconsin Legislative Reference Bureau. Madison: State of Wisconsin. 100-179. Stratman-Thomas, Helene. 1948. "Folk Music in Wisconsin." Badger Folklore 1:l. Thompson, Stith. 1996. A Folklorist's Progress: Reflections of a Scholar's Life. Bloomington, Ind: Folklore Institute. Vennum, Thomas Jr. 1973. Introduction to the reprint of Frances Densmore, Chippewa Music. Minneapolis: Ross & Haines. i-xii. Vogel, Virgil. 1965. "Wisconsin's Name: A Linguistic Puzzle." Wisconsin Magazine ofHistory 48,181-86. Vogeler, Ingolf. 1986. Wisconsin: A Geography. Boulder, Colo: Westview Press. Wagler, Mark. 1997. Personal communication regarding his field research with LaFarge, Wisconsin storyteller Dale Muller in 1985.

30

PART ONE

Terms

and Talk

1

The Significance of Manitowoc E. P. Wheeler

Place names-their origins, their meanings, their stories-fall prey to "progress" as surely as the land. In an era when emergency 911 systems have stimulated the conversion of local road names into numbers, only the elderly and the antiquarian may recall or care that West 18th Street was once the "Swamp Road"-especially since the swamp has been drained and filled. Many place names once invoked by Wisconsin's Woodland Indian peoples have vanished altogether before the onslaught of armies, settlers, and entrepreneurs eager to mark the land with words that celebrate themselves, the old worlds they've left and those they imagine: Dodgeville, Fort Atkinson, Weyerhaeuser; Bangor, Pulaski, Rhinelander; Arcadia, Mount Horeb, Richland Center. Yet some native names linger, particularly when rendered official through incorporation and canonized by mapmakers. Peculiar to European Americans, they inspire speculations both wise and otherwise. Oconomowoc, for example, has been linked jocularly with a new "settler" driving out an elderly original inhabitant. Exhausted, the "old Indian" drops in his tracks, exclaiming in pidgin dialect, "I can no mo' walk" (see my Midwestern Folk Humor [Little Rock: August House, 1991], 64, 233). The name Sheboygan is likewise associated facetiously with a "chief" who, like French Canadians attempting English, switches gender pronouns. Hoping for a daughter after many sons, he learns his wife has delivered yet another boy: "Ugh. She boy 'gain" (leary 1991: 63-64, 233). Ignorance and invention in wit's guise were paralleled more seriously in the 1920s when the Wisconsin Magazine of History included a regular "Question Box" feature in which "experts" solved or pondered historical riddles submitted by readers. Consider E. P. Wheeler's representative conjectures regarding Manitowoc's translation as "spirit timber." While Wheeler's condescending and pejorative use of "heathen" is a fine example of western Christian bias masked as intellectual objectivity, his notion that native peoples would not likely mix manito with Catholicism is apt. After all, Wisconsin's Algonquian-speaking Menominee, Ojibwe, and Potawatomi peoples generally referred to Franco-Americans as wemitigoozhi, "those who thrust crossed sticks in your face," an obvious satirical reference to the religious zeal of those in black robes. Subsequent investigators of Wisconsin's Indian place names have offered alternative explanations of Manitowoc. Robert E. Gard and L. G. Sorden's The Romance of Wisconsin Place Names (Spring Green, Wisc.: Wisconsin House, 1969) draws upon Manitowoc area correspondents to state that ''The first white men thought the Indians called the place where they speared whitefish at the mouth of the river Munedowk, but the accepted phonetic spelling became Manitowoc. In the Indian language it meant 'spirit land' or 'river of bad spirits' and also 'devil's den.'" Virgil Vogel's far better informed Indian Names on Wisconsin's Map (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1991) dismisses demonic references in support of a contention-made in 1856 by Augustin Grignon, a French-Menominee trader-that Manitowoc is a Menominee name meaning the (presumably wooded) "home or place of the spirits." Finally, Wheeler's reference to a "totem pole" likely describes an upright column of less than six feet inscribed with a single clan animal; it should not be confused with the elaborate multi-clan totem poles common in the Pacific Northwest. Reprinted from Wisconsin Magazine of History 4 (1920-1921): 106-7.

33

1.1. Several versions of this 1907 postcard circulated in Wisconsin, depicting the still current and facetious Shebogyan place-name legend wherein a Woodland Indian father, hopeful of a first daughter instead of yet another son, ruefully switches gender pronouns: "She boy again." State Historical Society of Wisconsin, WHi (X3) 51648.

34

WHEELER: The Significance ofManitowoc Urgent business matters have interfered with a prompt reply to your inquiry made in your last communication. You will remember it related to the question as to whether or not the name Manitowoc could have been derived from a cross set upon the shore near by, by the early Catholic missionaries. This derivation of the name I consider as improbable. My reasons for this opinion are as follows: First. The name given by the Algonquin languages to the cross has been one which designated it as a cross-stick. The Indian word spelled in the English orthography is "Ah-zih-day-yah-tig." I never knew the cross to be called by any other name than the one given. It has in it an implied feeling of contempt, as our word "stick" designates a diminutive and comparatively worthless article. The ending "woe" in the word Manitowoc involves the meaning of wood as timber or forest and so means a great deal more than a stick. If the cross had given name to the place, it would probably have been a word something like "Ah-ziu-day-yah-tig-gong, " meaning place of the cross. Second. I have never known of any case where the Indians gave a name to a place because of its cross, this notwithstanding the Catholic missionaries have such landmarks almost everywhere in their exploring expeditions. There was one at Madeline Island. There was another at Sault Ste. Marie. On the Pacific slope, almost every Mission Station was dedicated by the erection of a cross. Of course, it might be said that while later usage among the Indians after the name of the cross had become established might have made it impossible for the Indians to call it a "spirit timber," which Manitowoc means, yet in the first instance, the Indians finding a symbol strange and weird, someway connected with the idea of God, might have called it as given. But I think the objection can fairly be raised to this assumption which will be my third reason: that the heathen opposition to the white man's religion would be stronger to start with than it became afterwards. Therefore, the improbability of the Medicine Lodge of heathenism allowing its own sacred name of Manitou to be applied to the cross is still more so. It is a singular fact that notwithstanding the triumphs of Christianity among the Indian peoples, the original name of cross-stick obtains in their language. I think the theory that the name Manitowoc either refers to a totem pole erected by a clan of the Medicine Lodge, or that it is derived from a grove made sacred by certain forms of worship in the woods gives origin to the name. So I would conclude that Manitowoc comes either from a totem pole or from a grove used for certain Medicine Lodge ceremonies.

35

2

Names in the Welsh Settlement Charles T. Roberts

The Welsh immigrated to southern Wisconsin in the early 1840s. Around Rewey-along the Pecatonica River in Iowa and lafayette Counties-they were farmers, lead miners, and ferVent devotees of Congregational, Presbyterian, Methodist, and Baptist churches. This account, set down by Charles Roberts in the early 1940s, concerns the Rewey 'Welsh Settlement" in the late nineteenth century and makes prominent mention of the Congregational church "Bryn Zion," the Calvinistic Methodist "Rock Church," and the Presbyterian "Carmel" and "Peniel" churches. Bryn means "hill" in Welsh, while Peniel, the name of the angel with whom the biblical Jacob wrestled, is a common one for Welsh Presbyterian churches, among them the Peniel church in Winnebago County, south of Oshkosh. Roberts also lauds his community's "good singers," a claim that is made repeatedly about Wisconsin's Welsh, invariably with reference to church choirs (e.g. Phillips G. Davies, Welsh in Wisconsin [Madison: State Historical Society of Wisconsin, 1982], 3, 18-19; Fred Holmes, Old World Wisconsin [Eau Claire, Wise.: E. M. Hale, 1944], 197-210; and Helene Stratman-Thomas in Harry Peters, ed. and compiler, Folksongs Out of Wisconsin [Madison: State Historical Society of Wisconsin, 1977], 24). When Charles Roberts was a young man, William R. Jones was the "song-master" at the Peniel Church, leading the congregation's singing of hymns in four-part harmony. At the close of the twentieth century the longstanding interdenominational Welsh song fest, or Gymanfa Ganu, remains a signi~cant institution among Wisconsin's Welsh, drawing participants from Rewey's Peniel to the Peniel Church in Winnebago County, and to the Cambria, Neenah, Oshkosh, Redgranite, and Wild Rose communities where they continue to sing hymns in Welsh and English. local historian Melva Knebel aptly preceded Roberts' account with an explanation of the many nicknames required in the Rewey Welsh community where so many people shared both surnames and given names, and where a Davies might marry a Davies, a Hughes a Hughes, a Jones a Jones, with none related to the other. One William Jones, who hailed from Cottage Inn, was called "Bill Cottage." Another William Jones was called "Bill the Mason" in association with his craft. And two Richard Jones of differing heights were dubbed "Big Dick" and "little Dick." Married women's nicknames combined their ~rst names with their husbands': Maggie Hughes was "Maggie Jim," Elizabeth James was "lizzie Sam," while John Jones' wife Elizabeth was "lizzie Jack." Welsh names were also given to Rewey farms and, in the case of two men named John Davis, farm names were invoked to distinguish one as "Davis Glyn" and the other as "Davis

Tenona." The same Welsh names proliferated elsewhere in Wisconsin, as did nicknaming tactics. In the early 1940s Fred Holmes traveled to Cambria to locate John Jones, a prominent practitioner of Welsh traditions. There were thirty Joneses in the community, three of whom were Johns:

36

ROBERTS: Names in the Welsh Settlement

2.1. John Williams leading Welsh singers at a Gymanfa Ganu in the Peniel Church near Pickett, Winnebago County, 1946. State Historical Society of Wisconsin, WHi (X3) 38843.

"Did you ever hear him called John Jones- Tannyralt?" inquired the cheesemaker, endeavouring to assist me. Upon my increasing bewilderment, he asked if I knew whether Mr. Jones lived on the brow of a hill. All the time the mystery was deepening for me. "I think you must want to see John E. Jones-Tannyralt," he added. "I will give you directions to his farm." "But, Iwant to visit John Jones, not John Jones-Tannyralt," I protested. '''Tannyralt' is just a handle on the Jones name far distinction," he interposed, drawing a rood map far me to follow. The map took Holmes where he wished to go. And after John and Annamary Jones had enjoyed a laugh over their visitor's confusion, Mrs. Jones explained: Almost every farm has a Welsh name.... Because our farm is under the slope of the hill, it has always been called "Tannyralt," which is the Welsh descriptive word far that location. And, so that our checks at the bank are properly charged, since there are so many Joneses, we use the farm name also in the signature. Not far from here are other farms with signi~cant names: Coed Mawr (the big woods); Treel Dolphin (a village in Wales); Ty Bricks (the brick house); "Snowden" (the highest mountain in Wales); Vron Haelog (sunny slope) and Tanybwlch (brow of a hill). (Holmes 1944: 202-3) Phillips Davies similarly enumerates the use of farm names near Columbus to distinguish between "the several John Joneses or David Williamses in the settlement." The farm names attached to

37

Part One. Terms and Talk

surnames included "Pen y Daith (End of the Journey), Bryn Mawr (Big Hill), Ty Hen (Old House), Y Plas (The Manor), Ty'n-y-CoecJ (House in the Wood), and such place names as Hendrefand Bryn HafocJ." The Columbus area's Welsh also appended occupational names, such as John Owens the Church, for a deacon, as distinct from John Owens the Singer (Davies 1982: 33). Reprinted from In the Shadows of the Mines: The Village of Rewey, Wisconsin 1880-1980 (Rewey, Wise.: The History Committee, 1980),30--31.

The Account of Charles Roberts I will now start this history from the northeast side where William O. and Joseph Powell land and homestead were. Traveling west David M. Thomas farm, then Walter Powell and John Lewis and Benjamin Gibbon farm and homestead. Then the David D. Davies farm and homestead (called the Glyn), next Thomas Thomas and Reese Davis farm and homestead, then Robert J. Hughes farm and homestead on west side of settlement, all of these on north of Country Trunk A. Start now on the east side, Peter Powell farm and resident [sic], then the Baptist Church built in the year 1864 located on the John J. Davies land known as "Hyde Park," the James Davis land then, John W. Jones land then John Lewis homestead and James Williams farm and Griffith Roberts land. Then Mrs. John Phillips home then, John Owens homestead, the William Thomas, then Bob R. Hughes on west side. No.8 Schoolhouse on east side of the Welsh Settlement, Robert Hughes farm coming west then the David Griffith farm and William Jones (Cottage), then William Jones (Mason) then Hugh Jones Sr. (Telog), then John W. Jones then the Bryn Zion Church, Congregational demonination, built in the year 1871. The William Owen and John Morgan home and Peter Jones and Edward Williams and R.ichard Humphrey farm and homestead, then start on the east side, Reese Harris farm (Pen Bank). Then the Welsh flour mill on the Pecatonica River for water power, ground with stone burs [sic] on Benjamin Williams land then Thomas Davies and John E. Jones (Mason) then the Old Hendra land and James Phillips and Ebenezer Davis farm and homestead and No.9 Schoolhouse and Moses Jones farm. Now the Peniel and Carmel parsonage, then Thomas H. Jones then Peniel Church built on land homesteaded by John P. Jones (Cabin). The old Davies homestead about the center of the Welsh Settlement, the David C. Davies farm then the Rock Church built the year 1854 now where Carmel Church was built in 1852. Then William Phillips (Gloque) [i.e. "quarry"] and David P. Jones (farm Luide) then William D. Jones and John Owens. Then starting on east side of old Hendrea and next James Phillips (Glaspunt). Then Eben Davis home, the Moses Jones homestead about the center of the Welsh Settlement. Most of the Welsh families came, they settled around these parts and it became quite a large settlement as they built churches and schoolhouses. It was noted for the fine church sermons and Sunday schools and the singing, as the Welsh were noted as good singers. Then start at the east side, John P. Jones (Cabin) then Peniel Cemetery then John H. Jones and Griff Roberts, then at east side Elias Wil-

38

ROBERTS: Names in the Welsh Settlement

Iiams and Michael James and Henry Harris, then Thomas Jones (Carnaven) , the Noah Thomas farm and Jericho No.7 schoolhouse, Owen Hughes and John W. Thomas Sr. and John W. Davis (Tenona) then William D. Roberts (4 crossing). Then start at east side David J. Jones (Dufrin) then Edward Jones (Big Ned). Then William P. Roberts land and homestead bought in the year 1864, now owned by Charles T. Roberts now where Dewey Roberts lives, one of the grandsons. The Welsh Settlement is located in Iowa County on the southwest side next to Lafayette County and some of the Settlement is in Lafayette County. I was born on the home farm in Lafayette County, son of William P. and Ann Roberts, Welsh parents both from Angel Shier [sic], North Wales, coming to America when very young, and married in America. There are not any of the first settlers here now and they did not leave any written history so I have done what I know about it now.... I was born April 21, 1870 and lived here all the time. So, you will excuse my poor writing by an old man.

39

3

German Nicknames of Places in Early Dodge County C. H. Bachhuber

Dodge County has been, since the 1830s, among the most German areas of America's most German state. In a county where German was actively spoken on the streets through the 1930s, where children were educated in German parochial schools, where occasional church services are still conducted in German, and where such German names as Herman, Huilsburg, and Leipsig festoon the official map, the unofficial presence of German nicknames for places does not surprise. C. H. Bachhuber, likely a native Dodge County German, was living in West Allis when he became one of many "locals" with whom the State Historical Society of Wisconsin's Charles Edward Brown corresponded regarding Wisconsin's folklore. (Lester Seifert mentions a Bachhuber's Saloon in Mayville as an important nineteenth-century Dodge County institution in "Some German Contributions to Wisconsin life," Yearbook of German-American Studies 18 [1983]: 173-83.) Between 1935 and 1944, Bachhuber also supplied Charles Brown with manuscripts on "Bavarian Rhymes," "Bavarian Proverbs," and "English Words in General Use in the Bavarian Settlement of Town LeRoy, Dodge County, in 1890." Bachhuber's report of belittled Bavarians begs further comment. The widely held rotund, leather-panted, beer-swilling, sausage-chomping, tuba-blowing, polka-dancing German stereotype derives from Bavaria-that old Catholic, alpine, southern German kingdom whose capital is Munich, home of the world's most famous tavern, the Hofbrau Haus, and hearth of annual Oktoberfest revels. Yet Dodge County's German population hails overhwelmingly from the more austere Lutheran regions of north Germany. These Plattdeutschers, or "low Germans," from Brandenburg, Pomerania, and Prussia were joined by a small but signiRcant contingent of "Forty-Eighters," or "Latin Farmers," urban intellectual refugees following the failed liberal revolution of 1848. Both parties tended to regard themselves as superior to Bavarians, whom they often viewed as rustic clodhoppers. Indeed I encountered this attitude as recen~y as 1986, while doing intensive Reid research on German music in Dodge County, when a Bavarian Catholic farmer and concertina player complained of haughty treatment from his neighbors. Reprinted from a report of March 20, 1944, submitted to Charles E. Brown; Brown papers, box 7, folder 9 in the Archives of the State Historical Society of Wisconsin; box 7 also holds the additional Bachhuber manuscripts.

Probably the most famous nickname in Dodge County was that given to Old Lomira. This is the original village, and is located on the Fond du Lac-Milwaukee Trail, now Highway 41. It is said that a certain jolly tavern keeper greeted every guest with a lusty "Schenk' ir'." This is Bavarian for "Schenke irn," fill the glass. Thus this name was applied to the village far and wide. It is pronounced shIn gee

40

BACHHUBER: German Nicknames ofPlaces

3.1. This tall-tale postcard, ca. 1910, is possibly by Alfred Stanley Johnson of nearby Waupun, whose work is enshrined in the Waupun Heritage Museum. At the time, Watertown, in Dodge County, was known for "Watertown Stuffed Geese" and sometimes referred to as "Goosetown." Wisconsin Folk Museum Collection, courtesy Watertown Historical Society.

Please don't ask me to vouch for the truth of the foregoing explanation of this name. In the northwest corner of Town Lomira there is a locality known as Pontsville (the "0" very short). The story is that a certain farmer of that section was blessed with an immense paunch, [in] German-panz, and the whole section of the town came to be called Pontsville (Panzville). This explanation appears to be true. Along the northeast portion of Horicon Marsh there is a section known as Smud's Point, locally Schmud's Point. It is said that several Bavarian immigrants, who were unusually filthy, had located there. The German word for dirt or filth is schmutz-and the place was called Schmutz Point, corrupted into Schmud's Point. I doubt the correctness of this explanation. It may well represent the efforts of the German immigrants to read some meaning into the name. However, I recall a few residents of that locality who would have qualified as to schmutz.

41

4

Deutsche Sprichworter: German Sayings in Milwaukee Louis Pierron

Prior to the mass popularity of the self-help industry, with its plethora of dull phrases about role models, mentors, parenting, self-esteem, and safety, caring elders placed greater reliance on sharing proverbs: wise, witty, poetic, sometimes acerbic pronouncements that, as folklorist Roger Abrahams elegantly suggested, offered "traditional solutions to traditional problems." As a kid in the 1950s and 1960s I heard plenty from my dad, Warren Leary. Perhaps his favorite was "the old dog for the hard road," reserved for those not infrequent occasions when my "old man" demonstrated that his sagacity and stamina exceeded mine. Louis Pierron was raised in a German-speaking Milwaukee neighborhood in the last quarter of the nineteenth century where he heard the seventy-seven proverbs or sprichworter that fall below, although he tells us little about who used them, when, where, or why. Of his ancestry, Pierron had this to say in 1936 when he wrote to Charles E. Brown of the State Historical Society of Wisconsin: Grandmother on father's side came from Bavaria in 1838 direct to Milwaukee. She was Katherine Arnold, first employed as housemaid of the later Governor Harrison Ludington; shortly thereafter marrying Louis Pierron, a trader, who in the fire of 1843 lost his all to the extent of $500 in a small store he then conducted. He came from Alsace-Lorraine. He died in 1853 when my dad, William Pierron, was but four years of age. My mother, from Mainz, was born in 1853 and came over in 1855, her mother being a Hessian. Der Toepfer was the stepfather who took the reins of the Pierron clan before and after the Civil War. Unfortunately, Pierron's correspondence tells nothing about himself, although it was written on the 1936 stationery of Milwaukee's "North Side Cycling Club," an athletic organization that lists Pierron as a director. Judging from the surnames of other officers listed on the letterhead (Aussem, Koehn, Warnken, Jaeger, Stenzel, Mueller, Runkel), the club was an aggregation of fitness-minded German American males. Perhaps some of them contributed to Pierron's list? A smattering of Pierron's proverbs have English counterparts and persist to the present (numbers 16, 28, 32, 38,41,53,60,63, 75), but we know little about the extent to which many others have been used, especially those with esoteric rural and ethnic content. In October 1997, Elizabeth Wagner-a student in my Folklore of Wisconsin class who had grown up in the heavily German community of Glen Haven, in Grant County-read Pierron's manuscript and observed: There are a couple that my parents seemed to use frequently when I was a young adult. I can hear my father's intonation and see the slight curl on his upper lip when he would say, "Selfpraise stinks!" ... My mother, on numerous occasions, such as relating neighborhood events or family relationships, will state, 'What one doesn't know, doesn't hurt them." ... One of my peers, Bonnie, comes from a Germanic heritage in Kiel, in the eastern side of Wisconsin.

42

PIERRON: German Sayings in Milwaukee She remembers her grandparents talking negatively of red-haired people, which relates to another of the sayings, "Red hair and arlen wood do not grow on good soiL" (For another dozen German proverbs from Milwaukee, see Albertine Schuttler's contribution to Robert E. Gard and l. G. Sorden's Wisconsin Lore [Spring Green, Wise: Wisconsin House, 1962], 316-18.) Reprinted from a report, January, 1936, submitted to Charles E. Brown; Brown papers, box 7, in the Archives of the State Historical Society of Wisconsin.

Spelling and capitalization have been regularized and some editorial emendations have been made.

1. Hoffen und Harren macht manchen zum Narren. (Hoping and waiting make a fool of many.) 2. Wer den Pfennig nicht ehrt, ist des Thalers nicht wert. (Who does not honor the penny is not worth the dollar.) 3. Ein blindes Huhnfind et auch ein Korn. (A blind chicken also finds a kernel of grain.) 4. Rothe Haare-Arlenholz wachsen aufkeinem guten Boden. (Red hair and alder wood do not grow on good soil.) 5. ledem Narren gefiillt seine Kappe. (Every fool likes his cap.) 6. Wer den Schaden hat braucht fiir den Spott nicht zu sorgen. (The laugh is always on the losers.) 7. Not kennt kein Gebot.

(Need knows no law.) 8. Hochmut muss Not leiden. (Pride must suffer need.) 9. [Es ist] Sist nichts so fein gesponnen es kommt doch endlich in die Sonne. (Nothing is spun so fine that will not come to light.) 10. Wie der Herr so ist Gescherr. (As the master is, so is his household.)

43

Part One. Terms and Talk

11. Der Krug geht so lange zum Brunnen bis er bricht. (The jug goes to the water until it breaks.) 12. Der Schuster hat immer die schlechtesten Stiefel. (The shoemaker always has the worst bo?ts.) 13. Du must in sauern Apfel beissen. (You must bite into a sour apple.) 14. Muss ist eine harte Nuss. (Must is a hard nut.) 15. Du bist ein Hanswurst. (You are a Hans sausage-i.e., a fool.) 16. Eine Hand wiischt die andere. (One hand washes the other.) 17. Herren Gunst und Liirchengesang, Tont sehr schoen, doch wahrt nicht lang. (Honors and lark's songs sound very nice, but do not last long.) 18. In der Not frisst selbst der Teufelfliegen. (In distress even the devil flees.) 19. Unrecht gut gedeihet nicht gut. (Injustice won't last.) 20. Friede erniihrt, Un/riede verzehrt. (Peace nourishes, unrest destroys.) 21. Neue Besen kehren gut. (New brooms sweep clean.) 22. Des Menschen Wille ist sein Himmelreich. (A man's will is his kingdom of heaven.) 23. Fremdes Lob klingt, Eigenlob stinkt. (Praise from others rings, self praise stinks.) 24. Der Kuckuck ruft sein eigenen Namen. (The cuckoo calls his own name.) 25. Man soll den Tag nicht vor dem Abend loben. (Don't praise the day before the evening.) 26. Was Hiinschen nicht lernt, lernt Hans nimmermehr. (What little Hans does not learn, Hans never will.) 27. Mit dem Hut in der Hand, kommt man durch das ganze Land. (Good deportment will carry one through the entire land.)

44

PIERRON: German Sayings in Milwaukee

28. Was man nicht weiss macht man nicht heiss. (What one doesn't know won't hurt one.) 29. Aller Anfang ist schwer. (All beginnings are difficult.) 30. Morgenstund hat Gold im Mund. (The morning hour has gold in its mouth.) 31. Der Geiz ist die Wurzel allen Ubel. (Stinginess is the root of all evil.) 32. Was du nicht willst dass man dir tut, das fuge auch keinem andern zu. (Do unto others as you would have others do unto you.) 33. Vogel die fruh morgens singen, frisst am Abend Leicht die Katz. (Birds which sing early in the mornings are easily eaten in the evening by the cat.) 34. Eines Mannes Rede ist keine Rede, man soll sie horen, alle beide. (Always hear both sides of a story.) 35. Mitgefangen, mitgehangen. (Caught with wrongdoers, hanged with them.) 36. Wie man in den Wald hinein ruft, so schallts wieder heraus. (As one calls in the woods, so it also echoes back.) 37. Eine Kriihe hackt den andern das Auge nicht aus. (One crow does not pick another crow's eyes.) 38. Schuette das Kind nicht mit dem Bade aus. (Don't throw the baby out with the bath water.) 39. Die Nurnberger hiingen keinen; sie hiitten ihn denn zuvor. (The Ntimbergers do not hang a man before they have him.) 40. Was mehr wert is wi' ne Laus sollst du mitnehmen nach Haus. (Be content with even small gifts.) 41. Den frohlichen Geber hat Gott Liebe (God loves a cheerful giver.)

45

Part One. Terms and Talk

42. Wo Tauben sind, fliegen Tauben zu. (Pigeons fly to where pigeons are.) 43. Der Sperling in der Hand ist besser als zehn Tauben auf dem Dache. (A sparrow in the hand is better than ten pigeons on the roof.) 44. Wo Frosche sind, gibt es auch Storche. (Where there are frogs, there are also storks.) 45. Fur das Gewesene gibt der Jude nichts. (The Jew cares nothing for what has passed.) 46. Unkraut vergeht nicht, es schlagt Lieber doppelt aus. (Weeds do not perish, they double in growth.) 47. Ein Unglueck kommt selten allein. (Misfortunes seldom come singly.) 48. Das arme Tier gejungt. (The poor have many offspring.) 49. Freunde in der Not, gehen tausend aufeine Lot. (Friends in need would fit a thousand on a plumb bob.) 50. Den kann auch loben in allen Wirthshausern, ohne Bier. (He can be praised in all taverns, without beer.) 51. Viele Kunden sind des He"en Tod. (Many customers are the merchant's death.) 52. Selbst ist der Mann. (A man is what he is.) 53. Wer selbst im Glashaus sitzt soll andere nicht mit Steinen bewerfen. (He who sits in a glass house must not throw stones at others.) 54. Fishfangen und Vogelstellen verderben manchen guten Gesellen. (Many a good soul is ruined by levity.) [Literally: Catching fish and hunting birds ruins a good person.] 55. Der Horcher an der Wand hort seine eigene Schand. (The listener at the wall hears his own shame.) 56. Ein Na" kann viele Narren machen. (One fool can make many.) 57. Geteiltes Leid ist halbes Leid, geteilte Freude, doppelte Freude. (Shared sorrow is half sorrow, shared joy is doubled joy.) 58. Schuster bleib bei deinen Leisten. (Shoemaker, stick to your last [talents].)

46

PIERRON: German Sayings in Milwaukee

59. Wenn man den Wolf nennt, kommt er gerennt. (Mention the wolf and he comes running.) 60. Irren ist menschlich. (To err is human.) 61. Morgen, morgen nur nicht heute sagen alle faulen Leute. (Tomorrow, tomorrow, not today, say all lazy people.) 62. Wer einmallugt dem glaubt man nicht und wenn er auch die Wahrheit spricht. (Who once lies is never believed.) 63. Verschiebe nicht zum andern Tag was Heute du verrichten magst. (Postpone not until tomorrow what can be done today.) 64. Hoffnung liehst nicht Schaden werden. (Hope buoys up sorrow.) 65. Mit der Zeit pfluckt man Rosen. (In the course of time one picks roses.) 66. Spare in der Zeit, so hast du in der Not. (Save in time and have in time of need.) 67. Einjeder kehr vor seiner Tzirejindet Not genug dafur. (Mind your own business.) 68. Kommt man uber den Hund, kommt man uber den Schwanz. (If one gets over the dog, one can get over his tail.) 69. Der Wolf nimmt auch geziihlte Schafe. (The wolf also takes counted sheep.) 70. Vorsicht is die Mutter der Weisheit. (Foresight is the mother of wisdom.) 71. Wenn zwei sich streiten, freut sich der Dritte. (When two quarrel, a third is pleased.) 72. Man ist immer kluger wenn man vom Rathaus kommt. (One is always cleverer when one comes from the court house.) 73. Gefundenes vertrohten ist so gut wie gestohlen. (Failing to return lost property is as good as stealing.) 74. Der Hehler ist so gut wie der Stehler. (The holder is as good as the thief.)

47

Part One. Terms and Talk

75. Wie sich einer bettet, so schliift ere (As one makes his bed so will he sleep.) 76. Einjeder muss sich nach der Decke strecken. (Everyone must stretch himself according to the length of the cover.) 77. Wer sich nicht nach der Decke streckt, dem bleiben die Beine unbedeckt. (Who does not stretch himself according to the length of the cover will have uncovered feet.)

48

5

Milwaukee Talk The Grenadiers

German-inflected talk has become part of the regional vernacular in Milwaukee and throughout much of eastern and central Wisconsin. Paralleling the celebration of Scandinavian dialect by Minnesota's Rlmmaking Caen brothers, of Fargo fame, and radio monologist Garrison Keillor, such diverse Wisconsin musicians as avant-rocker Sigmund Snopek and Two Happy Cowboys from Wisconsin (Rob Johnson and Rick Murphy) have toasted Beer Town's talkers with numbers like "Aina Hey" and "Howe's Bayou" (i.e. How's by You?); see Snopek, Wisconslnsane (Doli Records DlP 20010, 1987); and the Two Happy Cowboys from Wisconsin's eponymous compact disk (Waubesa Ranch Records, 1993). Meanwhile the Milwaukee Journal was chronicling that city's Teutonic phraseology well before University of Wisconsin linguist Jurgen Eichoff began his scholarly investigations-as summarized in "German in Wisconsin" (in The German Language in America, ed. Glenn C. Gilbert [Austin: University of Texas Press, 1971], 43-57). In 1951 the Milwaukee Journal published Milwaukee Talk, a pamphlet that was soon promoted by staff writer Don Trenary. His "Such Talk You Hear By Milwaukee," published in the paper's "Sunday Section" on August 25, 1951, asserted that ''The rigid rules of grammar and syntax are warped in backyard conversations but a living, colorful speech is created." Trenary continued: "In Milwaukee, the common tongue is Ravored by the fading Germanicism that casts its warm patina over the bustling city. Sometimes it makes itself evident in a strong contraction, like the colloquial 'spade's ace' for the more watery 'ace of spades.' Sometimes it is an explosive interjection, like the most useful 'enna?'" Milwaukee Talk had its origins in the popular Heinie and His Grenadiers radio program on the Journal's WTMJ station. Heinie, a radio character created and performed by Milwaukee-born announcer Jack Bundy, held forth from 1932 until 1964, with a hiatus during World War II. Bundy's Heinie specialized "in Deutsch brand corn freely seasoned by outrageous accents that listeners seemed to relish" (Jay Joslyn, "Heinie Regroups His Grenadiers," Milwaukee Journal, November 26, 1965). For their part, the Grenadiers were a tight German band that made the Rrst of several 78 rpm recordings for Decca in 1939. The Heinie and His Grenadiers broadcasts enjoyed an extraordinary following throughout southeastern Wisconsin. Following an on-air discussion of Milwaukee's "colorful folk talk," listeners sent in 2, 1171etters that offered their favorite Milwaukeeisms and formed the basis for Milwaukee Talk. Reprinted from the pamphlet Milwaukee Talk (Milwaukee: Milwaukee Journal, 1951). Copyright © 1998 Journal Sentinel, Inc., reproduced with permission.

Introduction There was a time, as everyone knows, when Milwaukee was known as a German community and that it was just that, no one can deny.

49

5.1. A signed photograph by Jack Bundy, a.k.a. "Heinie," in his Grenadiers regalia and invoking the German dialect greeting with which he commenced his program on Milwaukee's WTMJ radio, late 1930s. Wisconsin Music Archives, University of Wisconsin.

50

THE GRENADIERS: Milwaukee Talk The years have changed this situation just as they have changed many other things so that today Milwaukee is very similar to our other great American metropolitan centers. There lingers on, however, a link between today and yesterday in some of the colorful expressions which at one time represented true English translations from the German and later other tongues. These unusual twists to the English language afford all of us a good many chuckles. We decided to prod the memories of Milwaukeeans and see how many typical expressions of this earlier era could be brought to life. A contest staged on the Grenadiers program brought in thousands of entries, some of them so typical and so humorous that it was decided to publish them in a booklet. Thus Milwaukee Talk came into being.

s

Remember, dear reader, this book just for fun 'Cause folks in Milwaukee-down to the last oneGet a kick out ofliving-and relish each bitSo read on and enjoy what our list 'ners have "rit"! The Grenadiers, "The Band of a Million Friends"

A Two-Oven Smile and Such a Clear Picture, Too Two women talking on the corner of West Wisconsin Avenue and North Fourth Street: "Gee, Mary, a lot of things have happened since I saw you last." "Yeah, Gretchen? F'r instance." "I've had all my teeth out, and an electric stove and a television set put in."

Diagnosis: Winter Thickness "Stanley, come broom off the snow. The sidewalk is getting thick."

I'm From Milwaukee, and It Doesn't Show-Much A Milwaukee area farmer phoning-in a classified newspaper ad: "Just put what I told you. Vun day about a week ago last munt I heard me a noise in the middle of the pack yard that did not jused to be. I jumped mit the bed out, and ran mit the door off, and der I found my pig grey mare tied loose and running mit the stable off. Whoever prings him pack pays $5.00 reward."

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Part One. Terms and Talk

And Never the Swain Shall Meet One gay blade to another sharpie: "I asked Grace to steady go, but she already was a-wenting."

Bag of My Heart, I Love You A woman in a dime store: "Put me in a sack for five cents of kiss candy."

Where's the Pane? Mother talking to her boy: "Johnny! Make that window shut. It pulls me in the neck!"

Doggone! "Tie the dog loose, and shut the gate open. Let him run the alley out until the kids from school come home."

Milkman, Shush Those Bottles Heard across the back fence at North Forty-seventh and Keefe: "Last night I was on a party, and in the morning when I stood up, was I already yet tired."

Downtown and Back on One Ticket A lady requesting a bus transfer at Capitol Drive and 41st Street: "Punch me long, mister, I'm going by City Hall."

Tempus, Fooey! The Irish, too, take their tum at twisting the tail of the English language. Listen as Pat talks to his foreman in a paint factory: "Mr. Putnall, today I've been here 16 years." "Well, Pat, that's a long time." "No, time doesn't seem when it's gone once in awhile as long as it really is, does it!"

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THE GRENADIERS: Milwaukee Talk

Crazy Rhythm One teen to another down by where the street car the comer bends: "Let's go down by the Eagles where they got two musics and dance like mad."

Weather Forecast: Beware of Low Hanging Muscular Cumulus Formations Locust Street mother to her son: "Come from out the yard in. I tink a tunder shower is pulling up."

Since She Took Sicken, Tanto Tain't Tickin' Oklahoma Avenue spinster telling her neighbor about a sick aunt: "She's pretty worse. I guess she won't make it much longer yet. Ain'na?"

Mice-Self? Mrs. Schmidt calling to woman downstairs: "You know, I killed the little mouse in my kitchen this morning all bJ .lnyself." "Oh, Johanna, don't get so excited. In my front hall, I killed myself two once."

Sow Big Overheard in a dress shop: "The size I don't know, but try it on I will even if it ain't for me, but my sister, Hanna. We are both the same fat."

Medical School Was Never Like This Mama on the porch telling Junior what to do: "Ride up town the bus. Then go by the butcher shop and pick up for me my pigs' feet and your papa's brains, and don't forget the cat's liver."

In Wisconsin ... Cannibals? A call heard over the back fence: "Willy, come in once and eat yourself. Ma is on the table and Pa's half ett already."

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Part One. Terms and Talk

Grounds for Something "Grease yourself a piece of bread and I'll put you on a hamburger."

A Home Is Every Man's Ghoul A Mitchell Street man was trying to explain to one from down by Kinnickinnic, just where he resided: "I live by the cemetery where they bury the funerals."

Bat Your Life A night at Borchert Field (where the Brewers play ball) produced this: "C'mon, let's go. Hit it once a coupla times."

They Never Forget a Face "You come me so close, but know you 1 can't."

What? No Brains? "My boy, August ... all what comes in his head is fishing tackle and worms."

I'll Pass "Why don't you hello me when you know me so easy?"

Toupee or Not Toupee On returning from the beauty parlor one afternoon Mrs. Schulz was greeted by her neighbor, Mrs. Finkelmeister, with the statement: "Oh, Mrs. Schulz, how nice ain'na, you had your hairs made."

The Hole Story Stonemason instructing his apprentice while constructing a wall: "Dese stones are too close apart. Dey should be furder togedder."

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THE GRENADIERS: Milwaukee Talk

Slow Burn "Don't nervous me, 1 get easy mad."

A Delicatess' The butcher had just finished waiting on a woman for whom he sliced eight pieces of baked ham. The next customer up said to him: "Slice me too eight times like you did the other lady."

Lost and Bound "Here 1 sit my heart tied in knots on Two Street and Mitchell with a switchticket [streetcar transfer] in my hand not knowing which way should I."

An Onion Tip One Milwaukee hausfrau was visiting another as the story goes. She felt called upon to make a comment on the salad she was served. "For why you always everytime putting in so much onion, you know always it comes me up so much. Always 1 like it more without."

He's His Own Grandpa "Our baby was Monday one year; our pa is going to be next week."

Fallin New recruits were lining up at a meeting of one of the components of Wisconsin's Thirty-second Division. One raw was heard to say to a not quite so raw: "Stanley, Stanley. 1 don't know where 1 should stood." "You stood where you are, Auggy, and don't move a step."

ButterBall "I get so easy warm; so dance me loose."

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Part One. Terms and Talk

Some People Say Swell "Is that neat ever, hey!"

The Once Over Lightly One school girl to another down by Eleventh and Mitchell where the street car bends: "Come around by my house yet before the movie and whistle me out so my pa knows who I hang by."

Sauce for the News A newspaper boy collecting from an elderly man: "Vat you vant?" "I came to collect for the paper." "Oh, so you come to collect. Vell, you go by the bushes in and look for the money. Dat's vere my paper I find."

What About the Stares Instructions to a small boy: "With the hose take the broom and wash down the front porch, and be careful. Don't splash up your Sunday pants."

Powder Room Palaver "Rosie, borrow me your looker. I bet my lips are all. Everytime I eat or drink, so quick I gotta fix 'em, yet."

Opportunity Knocks Itself Out "He told me for a job, and I asked him no, but if he would come last week sometime, I would look and find nothing."

Oh, for a Quiet Riot "Don't holler me so loud at. You ain't so good like you think you look it."

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THE GRENADIERS: lWilwaukee Talk

Dr. Kipen's Daily Dosin "Sometimes I don't feel so good, but then on the radio comes Milwaukee Talk, and I so much have to laugh all the time. I think already yet feel me much better."

A Noose Neck Two ladies were talking on the telephone when a knock came at one's door. She said: "Hang once, I hear someone at the door." Returning later she immediately queried: "Are you still hanging?"

Double Nagative "My wife she no like that night working business, but if she was like she ain't, I would quick took the job."

Tension on the Old Camp Ground Two cub scout packs arguing over a camp-site: "If you don't like us here, go there where we ain't, and forever don't come back."

Milwaukee, the Tanning Center It is not said: "Be a good little boy, Louie, or you will get a spanking." In Milwaukee 'tis spoken: "I'll give you such a one that you'll have it."

Papa's the Limit "Run me up the shade and look for me outside if worms are getting papa for fishing."

Monday Blues, or She Hung One On "All morning I'm hanging outside 'til it starts to rain yet, then I'm having to hang myself the rest of the day in the basement. Am I tired."

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Part One. Terms and Talk

He's Never Seen a Collection Basket "In church I always sit in the last pew so I can get quick out."

And Never the Brain Shall Heat "Between the ears you've got ice in the head. You don't know nothing and you always will."

Time for Bed, Lamb Mama at dusk: "Mar-ry! Mar-ry! Come vunce right away qvick in da house. Papa he vistled da back vindow oudt tree times already. You vant him he should come oudt?"

Duty and the Beach Picture the waves tumbling up onto the sand at Bradford Beach on a hot July afternoon as a father explains the responsibilities of a lifeguard: "See that man, son. He's a swim-saver. After people are drowned in the water, he saves them."

Fry This One "From the refrigerator get the eggs out and I will fry you."

Short But Suite "I'm glad the concert lasted so early."

In the Sill of the Night "Thank you for the invite. If we do come it will be in the night late; so we will rap you by your front windows if we can't wake you up by the door."

Oh What a Face Had Mary "She was the kind you liked better the more you saw her less."

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THE GRENADIERS: Milwaukee Talk

Fifth Floor . . . Notions It happened in a department store elevator. One clerk was amazed to see another gOIng up: "Bertha! It's you. I thought you were on your off." "Oh, no, Frieda, my off is all already."

A Case of Pillow Palaver Mother telling visiting nurse about her daughter: "She always dreams loud. She did that from little up."

No Inning or Outing "They called off the ball game and picnic because it gives something down like a drizzle out."

Cause for Deferment Father to the draft board: "You think my son don't want in the army ... when you know how he snores. He sleeps open his mouth and makes noise so much the whole barracks all time wakes up."

Looking in on Lily This is the way a woman at the Washington park bandshell explained to a friend that she had purchased a ticket for the Pons concert but stood outside of the fence enclosure to hear Miss Heidt: "I saw Lily Pons on the inside, and Winifred Heidt on the outside."

No Chattanooga Chew-Chew Mrs. Splitstoessen hollering to her neighbor: "Hoo-hoo! Mrs. Hansmann! What you never heard yet. On scrubbing this morning I lost my teeth!" "Lost your teeth?" "Ya, and what is so bad, it should happen right in front of my vacation yet."

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Part One. Terms and Talk

Oh, You Keats I give to you a violet In token of I'm glad we met. I hope we may already yet Once more again together get.

And Sit in the Shade? "It's warm in here. Why don't you run up the window?"

Music Maestro Flees Hans and Fritz met on the street one Sunday morning. Said Hans: "Did you go to the party?" Replied Fritz: "Oh sure. You should of was there once. Did we have glad! Two musics was blowing."

From Bed to Curse "You should have heard me cuss. When I stood up this morning and looked in the clock's face, it was already later than what it should have been."

An Alarming Situation Mama Talking: "Johnny, go let the dog out once, but don't let him ,bark the neighbors up. They're already to bed sometimes early."

Parting Is Such Sweet Confusion Pretty young high school thing telling her girl friend: "I gott clean my hairs. They're so greasy. And then I'm gonna bend them square, side by each on the wireless so they blouse nice."

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THE GRENADIERS: Milwaukee Talk

Son-Rise Serenade Papa rousing his sleepy offspring: "Hans, stand up! Don't sleep off your head. It's already five after the clock, and you fishing wanted to go."

What! No Sugared Saucer! Hubby home from the plant: "I'm not too hungry, dear. I'll just have a coffee cup and a bread slice."

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6

Ten Thousand Swedes: Reflections on a Folklore Motif Peter Munch

Rhymed ethnic taunts have long been part of everyday banter in culturally diverse Wisconsin. Columbia County Yankees razzed their "foreign" neighbors with "the Irish and the Dutch, they don't amount to much," while Catholic Celts in working-class Ashland heckled their Slavic coreligionists with "Irish, Irish, ring the bell/Polack, Polack go to hell." Initially intended cruelly, such gibes also engineered intimacy. In a region where "everybody's ethnic," where Old Stock and "1 00 percent" Americans have never been able completely to control the sociopolitical order, a relative egalitarianism prevails wherein the good-natured exchange of taunts becomes a means by which combatants reveal their cultural differences and common humanity. In Rice lake, during the 1950s, I learned all about the lone Norwegian that shamed ten thousand Swedes-just as my dad had learned in the 1920s. That we were Celts not Scandinavians hardly mattered. Rice lake was, after all, amid that belt of Norwegian settlement that dominates western Wisconsin. Authentic "Norskie" dialect could be overheard in stores and on the streets, while it was rendered more theatrically over WCCO radio, which beamed Charlie Boone and Roger Erickson's broad accents all the way from Minneapolis. Just as we cheerfully admitted we were "micks," "harps," "Paddies," and "fisheaters," we knew that Swedes and Norwegians alike might be teased as "herring chokers," "Scandihoovians," "snoose chewers," and "squareheads." We also knew that Swedes and Norwegians were rivals who, while less bloodthirsty than in years past, still relished taunting one another. Peter Munch, a Norwegian sociologist who taught for many years at Southern Illinois University, may well have encountered the "ten thousand Swedes" taunt while doing fieldwork in Wisconsin in the early 1950s (see his "Segregation and Assimilation of Norwegian Settlements in Wisconsin," Norwegian-American Studies and Records 18 [1954]: 102-40). His examination of this "folklore motif" reveals both its Old World roots and its New World provenance-although he does not suggest the likely contribution of the Sons of Norway fraternal lodges to the sustenance of stories surrounding the ''Ten Thousand Swedes" rhyme. The ballads "Peter Todenskjold" and "Sinklars-Visen" both appear, in Norwegian and English, in the widely circulating Sons ofNorway Song Book (Minneapolis: The Supreme lodge of the Sons of Norway, 1958). I bought my copy in the early 1990s in Mount Horeb, Wisconsin. Reprinted from Midwest Folklore 10:2 (1960): 61-69.

In an interesting report on Norwegian American folklore in the Indiana University Archives (Brunvand 1957), reference is made to a saying which, I believe, is wellknown (and cherished!) by all Norwegians in the New World:

62

MUNCH: Ten Thousand Swedes Ten thousand Swedes ran through the weeds -chased by one Norwegian!

The popularity of this little mock rhyme is significant in itself and reveals something about the good-natured rivalry between Swedes and Norwegians that still persists in many parts of the United States. The saying is easily classified with numerous jests and anecdotes boasting the Norwegians at the expense of the Swedes, such as the story about the Norwegian who was mistaken for a Swede because he had just gotten out of the hospital after a long illness. A connection is seen between this motif and seven versions of a tale, also found in the Indiana University Archives, about a victory for a small group of Norwegians against heavy odds, which appears to have reference to an episode in the so-called Kalmar War (1611-1613) between Denmark-Norway and Sweden (Brunvand 1957: 225-28). During this war a party of Scottish mercenaries, hired by the Swedish king Gustav Adolf, attempted to march from Romsdal, on the west coast of Norway, to the Swedish border but were attacked and defeated by Norwegian peasants at Kringen in Gudbrandsdal on the 26th of August, 1612. This is the so-called "Sinclair campaign," tales of which remained a living oral tradition among the local population up to the present time. Toward the end of the 19th century, tales and fragments relating to the Sinclair campaign were collected from the various localities of Romsdal and the Upper Gudbrandsdal region by a local teacher, who put them together into a soge (Austid 1899; Krag 1838; Christiansen and LiestoI1931). The tales of the Sinclair campaign are well known in Norway even outside of Gudbrandsdal, particularly from the popular "Sinclair Ballad," written by the folk poet Edvard Storm (1749-1794), a minister's son born and raised in Vaga, not far from Kringen. The ballad was very popular during the latter part of the 19th century and found its way into several popular song collections published during this period: Den nyeste Visebogfor Hvermand (1901) and Karl Seip's En liten visebokfor hjemmet, both standard equipment in homes and schools in Norway around the tum of the century. The Sinclair Ballad still holds its own as one of the standard popular songs in Norway as evidenced by its inclusion, in abbreviated form (and with an English translation by W. S. Walker), in a more recent collection of Norwegian popular songs and music, Norway Sings (1950). It is hardly an exaggeration to state that the Sinclair Ballad is, even today, known and sung all over Norway. It is evident that the Sinclair tales are known among Norwegians in America as well, although they are hardly as widespread and popular as they are in Norway. Three of the seven victory tales reported from the Indiana University Archives are clearly referable to the incident in the Kalmar War. The three versions were collected in Minnesota in 1947. It is also obvious that an important source of this tradition even in America is Edvard Storm's Sinclair Ballad. According to one of the local tales, Sinclair went on shore on a small island on the coast of Norway and there received a threatening warning from a woman: "Wait

63

6.1. Eau Claire Scandinavian dialect comedian, William F. Kirk, in his guise of the "Norsk Nightengale," ca. 1905. Wisconsin Folk Museum Collection.

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MUNCH: Ten Thousand Swedes

till you meet the valley people," she said, "then you'll get to bow your neck and kiss the turf!" Sinclair swore that when he had conquered the country he would return and "chop her to pieces" (Austlid 1899: 17). In the ballad, the woman has becolne a mermaid (Norwegian: havfrue), and so also in the two Minnesota versions including this motif, one of them quoting directly from the ballad (Brunvand 1959). Version A-"from an elderly couple visiting the United States": The Swedes paid a large sum of money to a Scottish nobleman to outfit a ship and attack Norway from the west ... As Sir Sinclair crossed the North Sea, a mermaid arose out of the water and said, "If you see the coast of Norway, you will never return alive."

Version B-"from a retired Norwegian-American pastor": The havfrue was a kind of sea-hag that came up to the surface and foretold events. When the Scotch conquered Sinclair and he came to Norway to fight for the money paid by the Scotch government, the frue warned him: "If you come to Norway, I tell you the truth, you'll never come back alive." Sinclair answered: "You evil troll, always you prophesy disaster. If I ever catch you, I'll chop you to pieces." The havfrue's prophesy came true. Sinclair did not come back.

For a comparison, I would like to quote three stanzas from the ballad: 3. Maanen skinner om Natten bleg, De Vover saa sagtelig trille; En havfrue op af Vandet steeg, Hun spaaede Herr Zinklar ilde. 4. "Ven om, vend om, du Skotske Mand, Det gielder dit Liv saa fage! Kommer du til Norrig, jeg sieger for sand, Ret aldrig du kommer tilbage." 5. "Leed er din Sang, du giftige Trold! Altidens du spaaer om Ulykker. Fanger jeg dig engang i min VoId, Jeg lader dig hugge i Stykker."

There is also evidence of a direct connection of the Minnesota versions with the oral tradition as known in Norway. Versions A and C make reference to the prominent figure Pillar-Guri, a young girl who, according to the local tradition, warned the peasants by blowing her prillar-horn from a vantage point across the valley as the Scotchmen approached. Other versions of the name are Pilar-Guri, Prillar-Guri, and Pella-Guri. The form most commonly found in Norway is Pillar-Guri, although originally it was probably Prillar-Guri. The girl obviously got her nickname from her skill in blowing the prillarhorn, a musical instrument made from a goat's horn. One of the Minnesota versions makes her the "leader" of the Norwegians. VersionA: ... As [Sir Sinclair] sailed into the fjord, an old woman living in the mountains named Pella Guri sounded the alarm. The women, children, and the old men gathered for the defense of

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Part One. Terms and Talk

their land. They cut huge quantities of timber and fastened them at a strategic place on the mountain where it juts out over the fjord. When the ships passed that point, the timber was released, and the Scotch fleet was destroyed.

Version C: When Norway and England were at war, Saint Sinclair, a warrior from England, together with a crew, became the victim of the tricky Norwegians whose leader was the prominent character Pilar Curio A band of Norwegians who hid in the mountains loosened the rocks around them. Sinclair and his crew were in the boat below. When she blew her hom, the English warriors were covered with the stones.

The Pillar-Guri motif, which looms large in the oral tradition in Norway, is not mentioned in Storm's ballad, at least not in the versions found in the popular song collections. On the other hand, the Minnesota versions show certain deviations from the Norwegian tradition which may possibly be regarded as "generalizations" of a tale that has been removed from its locale and cultural milieu. For one thing, the name of the locality, Kringen where the battle was fought, has dropped out, although this is a firmly established element in the Norwegian tradition. Versions A and C have the Scottish fleet destroyed even before the men got on shore. More pertinent to the question of a possible connection between the Sinclair tales and the mock rhyme about the 10,000 Swedes is the fact that two of the Minnesota versions apparently have forgotten that the Swedes were involved at all. Version B makes Sinclair a mercenary of the "Scotch government," and version C has Norway and England at war and makes Sinclair "a warrior from England." It is characteristic that the one version (A) which does recognize the role of the Swedes in the affair was collected "from an elderly couple visiting the United States," obviously from Norway. Nevertheless, the three versions of the "victory legend" that we have considered so far are easily identified as variants of the Sinclair tale. All of them contain specific elements which are characteristic of this tale alone, such as particularly the identity of the villain (Sinclair) and of the heroine (Pillar-Guri), as well as the general course of action. The four remaining versions reported from the Indiana collection are of a more general nature. There is nothing in these versions to identify them with a particular historical event, and the action is rendered in general terms of standard folklore motifs. Most specific are versions E and G. Version E relates an encounter of "twenty Vikings" with "the entire Scottish army" and could be regarded as a corrupt variant of the Sinclair tale if it were not for the fact that it tells an entirely different story: Many years ago there were twenty Vikings who were in danger of running headlong into the entire Scottish army. The leader of the Vikings saw only one chance for the small group of men. He told his men to gather all of the kegs of beer that they could find and place them in a circle. When the Scottish army approached, they saw the kegs of beer and stopped to quench their thirst. After a time, the Scotchmen became inebriated. The Viking leader told his men to march around the circle of Scotchmen. The men of the Scottish army, owing to the fact that they could not see well, thought they were surrounded and surrendered to the twenty Vikings.

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MUNCH: Ten Thousand Swedes

The Swedes are the enemies in version G, which places the episode in the 19th century and attributes it to an imaginary Norwegian war of independence against Sweden: From the war in which the Norwegians won their independence from Sweden in the 1800s, comes this story. The Swedes were in a castle and outnumbered the oncoming Norwegians five to one. The Norwegians, however, strung their men out and marched around and around the castle and scared the Swedes into thinking they were outnumbered terrifically; hence the Swedes surrendered.

The leading motif in both these versions is capture by deception, making the enemy think he is outnumbered by having the soldiers march in a circle. In Norwegian tradition, this motif is particularly associated with the conquest in 1719 of the Swedish fortress Karlsten, near Marstrand in Bohuslan, by Peder Wessel Tordenskiold, Norwegian-Danish naval hero of the Great Nordic War (1700-1720). This tradition gave rise to the phrase "Tordenskiold's soldiers," used in Norway even today in reference to any bluff involving numbers. Version G in the Indiana collection could be a vague recollection of that story. But the motif is too common in warfare traditions to be really descriptive of any particular legend. The two remaining versions of a "victory legend" in the Indiana collection, D and F, are the only ones that tell about the encounter of one Norwegian with a number of Swedes (in version D, 10,000 of them). These are also the only two versions which have been explicitly associated with the "10,000 Swedes" rhyme by the informants themselves. Also, they are the most general of all the versions with no indication of time, place, the identity of the actors, or any of those specific traits which are usually characteristic of the truly historical folktale. Version D was collected in Michigan in 1950 from a boy who had it from his Swedish father: The Swedes and the Norwegians were fighting. 10,000 Swedes were in a valley surrounded by mountains with only one pass in which they could enter or leave. One Norwegian put on a robe, which gave him supernatural looks, and came running down from the mountains. All the Swedes began to run and they left the valley. We say, "10,000 Swedes were chased through the weeds by one Norwegian."

Version F was told in 1952 by a Norwegian student at Michigan State University: When the Swedish troops were in Norway and marching through a mountain pass, a Norwegian soldier saw them from above and by throwing rocks and boulders down on them he wiped them out, either killing or trapping all of them. This led to the phrase, "10,000 Swedes chased out of the weeds by one Norwegian."

Although version F vaguely suggests the Battle of Kringen, it is hard to see any traditional connection between these anecdotes and either the Sinclair tale or the tale about Tordenskiold's soldiers. I strongly suspect that these versions have gener-

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ated from the rhyme, having possibly been made up even by the informants themselves in order to "explain" the rhyme, applying well known folklore motifs such as the rock pile (possibly by a vague recollection of the Sinclair tale) and the magic robe. This is quite conceivable, especially if the untrained student collectors have given the slightest indication that such an "explanation" might be of interest. Seen on this background, it is not very likely that the "10,000 Swedes" motif or its various expressions, either the mock rhyme itself or any of the related "Swede stories," have been derived from the Sinclair tale or any other victory legend from Norway. This, however, does not mean that there is no relationship between them. It might be useful in this connection to distinguish between "content" and "form" of a tradition, or to use Opler's distinction between culture "themes" and their "expressions." According to this view, every culture is characterized by certain general ideas or "values" (themes), declared or implied, which become manifest in specific patterns of behavior, attitude, or thought, described as their expressions. With regard to the delight that Norwegians in America appear to take in deriding the Swedes more than any other group, it is obvious that this is a theme which has been transplanted from the Old World. During about four centuries of Danish rule, with numerous wars between Denmark-Norway and Sweden, the Norwegians had become conditioned to think of "the Swede" as the traditional enemy. And when Norway was finally ceded from Denmark and united with Sweden under one king in 1814, the traditional military strife was soon to be replaced by a no less bitter political opposition to Swedish supremacy, which eventually culminated in the dissolution of the union in 1905. Particularly to the Norwegians of the late 19th century was this a vital concern because it was felt that the national identity of the Norwegian people was not fully recognized by the world, especially in relation to the Swedes. And so the negative side of this strong sense of national identity was directed particularly against the neighbor to the east. Important-although by no means the most important-expression of this theme were found in tales about greatness in warfare. Folk tradition in Norway even during the 19th century was rich in tales about the alleged atrocities of Swedish troops campaigning in Norway during the "Danish period," as well as about heroic and clever deeds accomplished by Norwegians in the many encounters with the Swedes. This is the background for the popularity of the Sinclair tale, the tale about Tordenskiold's soldiers, and hundreds of similar legends. It is quite obvious that this theme was retained and cultivated by the Norwegians who migrated to America during the second half of the 19th century. The Norwegian settlers in the Middle West had a strong feeling of national identity as Norwegians and took a live and active interest in Norway's strivings for political recognition and sovereignty over against [vis-a.-vis] Sweden. It may be significant that the peaks of Norwegian migration to America in the 1860s and the 1880s coincided with periods in which the political tension between the two countries was particularly high. And, apparently, the feelings were re-enforced as Norwegians and Swedes settled down side by side, increasing the frequency of contact. Besides, there was the constant need to point out and

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MUNCH: Ten Thousand Swedes

emphasize one's national identity over against [to] other Americans who were wont to lump Danes, Norwegians, and Swedes together as "Scandinavians," a habit which annoyed the Scandinavians no end, especially the Norwegians, whose strivings for recognition of their national identity in the Old World had been strong and recent. In this way, the negative attitude of Norwegians toward the Swedes was even transmitted to the following generations, and there are indications that the rivalry between these two closely related nationality groups has persisted more vigorously in the United States than in Scandinavia itself. At the same time, the rivalry between the two groups had to find new and different forms of expression. Military achievements of the one group over the other were hardly meaningful any more in the new situation, and emphasis on this motif was not even proper in relation to the general values, or leading themes, of the American frontier. But a milder form of expression of group differentiation, not entirely unfamiliar to the immigrant, was offered by the culture of the frontier in the deriding joke, which differs from the traditional folklore by being obviously made up, with no pretention of relating to actual events. If we look upon the "10,000 Swedes" motif in this light, it may explain the fact that most of the jests and anecdotes of this category are definitely American in their setting and obviously were created in America. The fact that the mock rhyme itself is built around an all English rhyme Swedes-weeds (which would be lost in translation), points in the same direction. To my knowledge, none of these jests and anecdotes have counterparts in Norway. I cannot even recall ever having heard any of these "Swede stories" told in the Norwegian language; they always seem to be given in English, even if a switch in language would be involved. In the bilingual situation of the Norwegian settlements in the Middle West, for example, jests and jokes were seldom translated from the one language to the other. When this was done in order to accommodate an occasional monolingual listener, there was always a feeling that the joke lost its point. All this may serve as an indication that these anecdotes and jests including the mock rhyme about the ten thousand Swedes running through the weeds chased by one Norwegian have not been derived from tales or legends transmitted from Norway. [Indeed] Mr. Brunvand has kindly drawn my attention to the similarity between the "10,000 Swedes" rhyme and a line in "The Battle of the Boyne Water," a ditty recorded by Bayard from Fayette County, Pennsylvania in 1943 (Bayard 1949: 47--48): Fierce and long the battle raged, Till, crushed by the fearful slaughter, Ten thousand micks got killed with picks At the battle of Boyne Waters.

Bayard's text is a "burlesqued and garbled fragment of the stirring Anglo-Irish piece 'The Boyne Water,'" which refers to the defeat of James II at the Battle of the Boyne in 1690. Apparently, the Pennsylvania ditty served a social function similar to that of the "10,000 Swedes" rhyme, boasting one group over another-in this case the English over the Irish. Bayard reported that one had only to sing this fragment "to

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bring on a small riot if any Irishmen were within earshot." Similarly, in Melbourne and Sydney, "children used to gather round convent schools on the anniversary of the Battle of the Boyne, chanting The Irishmen ran down the hill, The Englishmen ran after, And mony a Pat got a bullet in his back At the Battle of Boy'an Wather. Up to me knees in shandygaff, Up to me knees in slauther, Up to nle knees in Irish blood At the Battle of Boy'an Wather. (Opie 1959: 343)

In these cases, the partisan ditty does show a direct line of tradition from a specific historical event in the Old World. As shown above, I cannot see a similar connection for the 10,000 Swedes rhyme. However, from South Bend., Indiana., comes this little ditty delivered in a mock-Scandinavian accent (courtesy of Mr. Frank Hoffman., Indiana University, who collected the rhyme., and communicated to me by Mr. Brunvand): Ten thousand Swedes went through the weeds In the Battle of Copenhagen; Ten thousand Jews jumped out of their shoes, They smelt them frying bacon.

The "Battle of Copenhagen" may refer to the naval battle between the English and the Dano-Norwegian fleets in the harbor of Copenhagen on the 2nd of April 1801, or to the bombardment and conquest of Copenhagen by the English, September 2-5, 1807 (usually the former). In neither case were the Swedes involved, and the connection of the 10,000 Swedes rhyme with this battle is obviously secondary. It may possibly have come about through a diffusion of form from the Battle of the Boyne ditty. Such related English language rhymes lend credence to the argument that the rhyme and stories regarding 10,000 Swedes probably sprang up in the mixed ethnic milieu of the American Middle West. Their main function seems to have been to boast the Norwegians and deride the Swedes in the eyes of Americans., thereby emphasizing a social differentiation, often ignored by outsiders, but of the greatest importance to the Norwegians. Such partisan rhymes and ditties are quite commonly associated with social differentiations in many different cultures-the oldest known example may be found in Genesis 49. They offer a clear illustration of the role of folklore in an almost subliminal system of social control: "collective representations." Ideas and values, as well as the "proper" attitudes to them, are transmitted and reinforced from generation to generation by means of catching phrases, which seemingly have an entirely different function but become popular to the extent that they do express an important cultural theme. In our case, we are concerned with one of the most important themes in any culture, that of collective identity.

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Sources Austlid, Andreas. 1899. Sinklar-Soga. Oslo, Norway. Bayard, Samuel Preston. 1949. "The British Folk Tradition," in Pennsylvania Songs and Legends, ed. George Korson. Philadelphia. Brunvand, Jan. 1957. "Norwegian-American Folklore in the Indiana University Archives." Midwest Folklore 8. Pp. 221-28. Christiansen, Reidar Th., and Knut Liestol. 1931. "Norsk Folkesegner," in Folksagner and Folksagor, vol. IXB of Nordisk Kultur, ed. C.W von Sydow. Stockholm, Oslo, and Copenhagen. Pp. 161-80. Den nyest Visebogfor Hvermond. 1901. Norway: 4th edition. Krag, P.S. 1838. Sagn samlede i Gudbrandsdalen om Slaget ved Kringlen. Kristiana, Norway. Norway Sings. 1950. Oslo: Norsk Musikforlag. Opie, lona and Peter. 1959. Lore and Language of Schoolchildren. Oxford, England: Oxford University Press. Opler, Morris Edward. 1945. "Themes as Dynamic Forces in Culture." American Journal of Sociology 61. Pp. 198-206. Seip, Karl. 1923. En liten visebokfor hjemmet. Norway.

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7

Characters on the Chippewa Waters Gregg Montgomery

Dangerous occupations breed characters and characters are known by nicknames. Indeed the acquisition of a moniker often indicates a worker's shift in status from callow outsider to fullRedged veteran. The Chippewa Valley was the heart of Wisconsin's "pinery," with lumber camps, river drives, boom operations, and sawmills dominating the region's economy from the 1840s through the early decades of the twentieth century. The era's noted woods workers-whether Anglo-Canadian or Yankee, whether French, Irish, metis, or Norwegian-commonly acquired nicknames indicative of their brawling, profane, hard-drinking, boastful, relentless, tough, and dexterous natures. Gregg Montgomery's vivid survey of the Chippewa Valley's characters, their nicknames, and their stories was compiled in the 1930s when she served as a Held researcher for the Wisconsin Folklore Project, a federally funded program of the Roosevelt administration that was directed by Charles E. Brown of the State Historical Society of Wisconsin. In a letter of April 13, 1937, written from Chippewa Falls, Montgomery mentioned louis Blanchard, "the lumberjack with the FrenchCanadian dialect," and Dave Goulet, who had carved "a miniature lumbercamp." Montgomery then offered an inventory of the folklore she had documented: "Iumberjack songs (I haven't the music), games, jokes played on novices, stories of characters on the Chippewa River and its tributaries, stories of French Canadian "Pea Soupers" of this community, and the process of logging from the time the camp is built through the cutting, skidding, and delivering to the landing; the interesting and colorful drive down the river in the spring; rafting and Rooting the lumber down the Mississippi to its Hnal destination." (See also chapter 38, 'Woods Customs", pp. 373-74.) Montgomery's correspondence and the records of the Wisconsin Folklore Project are held in the archives of the State Historical Society of Wisconsin. At least one "character" described below by Montgomery, 'Whitewater Ole" Horne, remained prominent well after his death on a river drive in 1905. Sixty-two years later, nonagenarian Fred Mero Hunter recalled 'Whitewater Ole" as "the man who was supposed to be able to get on a log and ride it anywhere, over the rapids or through the sluiceway on a dam." (For the transcription of an interview with Hunter conducted by Robert B. Krueger, see Historical Collections of Washburn County, vol. 1,00. E. Ward Winton and Kay Brown [Shell lake, Wisc.: Washburn County Historical Society, 1980], 101.) According to Malcolm Rosholt, Ole Horne, an immigrant from Norway, had "married only a short time before tragedy took his life at little Falls," along with ten other men working to loosen a log jam. William Hoyer, a former river driver, told Rosholt that several of the drowned drivers were farmers who lived along the Chippewa River: 'When the body of one of them accidentally drifted ashore near his own farm, and when Whitewater Ole drifted all the way to Chippewa Falls where he lived, a legend grew that the men all drifted ashore next to their own place 'as if they were going home.'" (See Malcolm Rosholt, Lumbermen on the Chippewa [Rosholt, Wisc.: Rosholt House, 1982], 195-98.)

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MONTGOMERY: Characters on the Chippewa Waters

7.1. Loggers in their bateaux on the Chippewa River drive, near the mouth of Paint Creek, ca. 1900. State Historical Society of Wisconsin, WHi (X3) 14967.

Reprinted from the papers of the Wisconsin Folklore Project, under the federal auspices of the Works Progress Administration, co. 1937-0 microBlm copy of which is held by the State Historical Society of Wisconsin, reel P84-2055.

Peg Leg Pat McCann In 1876 a railroad with the wood burning variety of locomotive was completed between Eau Claire and Chippewa Falls. To celebrate the event, the city of Chippewa Falls held a pageant and a general celebration. A parade was one of the features of the day and to add to the fun and hilarity, Peg Leg Pat McCann's leg was sawed off in front of the First National Bank, amid screams of pain from Pat, and fainting and screams of fright from the women. Those who were not well acquainted with Peg Leg Pat did not know that he had lost a leg during the Civil War and went about with a substitute. For the parade his wooden leg was removed and a round piece of wood the shape of a leg fastened in its place. As the float in which Pat was riding stopped in front of the bank, he was held, struggling, to a table by several husky lumberjacks, while the leg was being sawed off. To add a touch of gore, gruesomeness and reality to the operation, a can of red paint was used as an excellent substitute for blood.

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Part One. Terms and Talk

Big Mouth Jack Big Mouth Jack was a notoriously bad man on the Chippewa River, whose only asset was his skill in chopping down trees. His talent for felling trees with an ax was unequalled. But Big Mouth Jack was heartily 'hated by every lumberjack because of his abusiveness and loud mouth. One time he took a train to Phillips to work in the woods. The night he arrived he had supper at the hotel and in his traditional manner began publicly abusing the waitress. The proprietor knew the futility of reasoning with the bad man, so he didn't try-he shot him instead. Nobody mourned over the death of Big Mouth Jack and he was dragged to the edge of town and buried in a shallow grave. Several days after the shooting a lumberjack passed the new grave and noticed it had been disturbed. He went into town and returned with a few men and dug up the body. They found the head had been severed and was no place to be found. The general belief was that some doctors had heard of the murder, and knowing the man's reputation for queerness and meanness, had taken the head for a post mortem examination.

The Widow Quimby The Widow Quimby was so called because he was minus a leg. During the old lumberjack days Quimby bought a circus tent and set it up as a hotel. He installed a kitchen and bunks to accommodate 75 or 80 men. The tent was kept warm in the winter by being banked heavily with snow. Tote team drivers, scalers and lumberjacks going to and from camp made this hotel their stopping place and with this exploit Widow Quimby became rich.

Jack-the-Tar-the-Frog-Eater Jack-the-Tar-the-frog-eater was so called because he would eat frogs and minnows alive; some were pretty big, too. A doctor had told him this practice would ward off consumption. He was a former sailor on Lake Superior, who turned lumberjack. One night in the spring of 1893, about a mile from Fifield, one Ed Laloch lay in his bunk sick and groaning with pain. A bully in camp started using abusive language against him for making too much noise and keeping others awake. Jack-the-Tar reprimanded the bully for picking on the sick man, and in return was given a sassy reply. The fight was on. In the struggle that followed, Case bit the Tar in the thumb. The Tar said, "So that's the way you want to fight? I'll show you how to bite." He bit the tormentor on the upper lip until it was hanging by nothing more than a piece of skin. That ended the fight.

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Jack-the-Tar was always a hard fighter, but never bothered anyone if they left him alone. He met his death in a fight at Duluth when some Italians stabbed him to death.

Patty-the-Pig Patty-the-Pig was an Irish driver who was always drunk; he never sobered up from the time he came off the drive until his stake was gone. One time he came into a saloon as drunk as a lord and with only a quarter left out of his season's earnings. He put the twenty-five cents on the counter and said, "By Jasus, what's the use to be down-hearted when twenty-five cents worth of licker will make you rich and happy."

Black Joe, Bald-Headed Joe, and Joe-Come-Lately The above names were used to distinguish three Joes in one camp. Many nicknames got their start in just such a way.

Sliver McCraw Sliver McCraw was a Canadian who drove logs on the Flambeau for several years. Finally he went back to Canada to visit his folks. He was pretty well "lickered up" by the time he got home and anxious to demonstrate his skill as a logger to his family. On the river he was known as a "white-water man"-one who can drive logs skillfully over rough waters and dangerous falls. He took his family out to the wood pile in the back yard, grabbed a stick to use as a peavy and started making the wood fly. lIe kept getting more excited and shouted to his mother, "This is a center (jam), mother, and a bad one."

The Clam River Bear Alfred Doucette with the rest of the crew was one time laid up because of a head wind that kept blowing the logs upstream so the boys couldn't pole them to the dam. Things were dull for the lumberjacks so they went over to Clam Falls for a little fun. Soon they were all teed up and the Bear got a little unruly and noisy. Some of the boys slipped down and got the village marshall who put him in jail for disturbing the peace. The place was only eight feet in diameter and had a little window about eight inches square with iron bars across it. The Bear was mad and used considerable bad language on a representative of the law. Finally he got his back to the wall and said, "I'll tip this damn jail over, I'm the Clam River Bear."

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His fine was $5, so the boys, after having their fun, passed the hat, paid the fine and took the Bear home. From that time on he was known as the Clam River Bear.

Tough Blanchard When Blanchard was a small boy he had great endurance. He was never sick, never tired, never cold, so his father dubbed him "Tough" and he was known everywhere by that name. In the year 1899 Tough was on a drive down the north fork of the Clam River. While the boys were in camp one night they spied an eagle's nest high up in a pine tree on the bank. The tree was a Norway pine and about 90 feet tall. The fellows thought if they could only get the eaglets they could sell them and have some fun that night. Windy Martin volunteered to climb the tree, so two of the boys went into town and borrowed a pair of telephone man's spikes. Windy climbed about 20 feet and got scared of the high wind. He made a bet with Tough Blanchard that he couldn't make the climb. Tough put on the spikes and shinnied up to the eagle's nest. The old eagles, resenting his interference, attacked him, clawing and biting him terrifically. He knew he could never get down with both birds so he threw one out of the nest and immediately the old ones swooped down to save it. In the meantime he grabbed the other one and came down the tree as fast as he could. The eaglet that had been thrown from the nest broke its leg when it fell, but even so the two eaglets brought $25 at Clam Falls, and Tough, the brave, never accepted any more bets to rob eagle nests.

Old Sittin' Bull Jack Whidden, known in old logging days as "Old Sittin' Bull," was one of the most prominent loggers on the Chippewa in his day. He was the head man for the Chippewa Log and Boom Company on the south fork of the Flambeau River. He was excellent driver and a fine dam builder.

Jack Pearl, Jack Whidden, and Fred Leonard No three men were better known to the old lumberjack and river driver than Jack Pearl, Jack Whidden, and Fred Leonard. Jack Pearl had charge of the drive on the east fork of the Chippewa and every spring with a rollicking daredevil crew of 100 or more men would drive from Glidden near the headwaters down through lakes and cataracts to the main river where Fred Leonard, who had charge of the drive on the west fork, would take them down the river to the flowage of Little Falls dam where the village of Holcombe now stands. Jack Whidden, known as "Old Sittin' Bull," had charge of the Flambeau River Drive. This crew under the supervision of Whidden was considered to be just the best crew of drivers obtainable, and they had to

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be to drive down that turbulent stream through miles of wilderness down to where the Flambeau poured into the lordly Chippewa at the Flambeau Farm.

Big Wanigan Tom "Big Wanigan Tom" Murphy got his name from being the most skillful man on the river in handling wanigans over falls. [Note: Wanigans were barge-mounted cookshacks used to feed workers on spring log drives.]

Check Stiles "Check" Stiles ran a logging camp in the north woods and also a livery stable on East Spring Street in Chippewa Falls. When a livery customer got ready to settle his bill, Stiles would always say, "Check to me." This saying became so much a part of him that he began to be known as "Check." One time Check was getting together his crews to go into the woods and had all but his ox teamster. In those days any man who was at all desirable could get a job with no trouble at all. A stranger came to Stiles and asked for a job. He was asked, "Can you drive cattle?" The applicant replied that he could. Check said, "All right, follow me." They went to Pat Tierney's saloon on East Central Street where there was a formidable collection of goad sticks that had been left at various times by teamsters who made their exit in no condition to remember their profession. Check asked Pat for the use of one of the sticks and then said to his prospective employee, "Now I will take this chair and it will be the nigh ox, and I will be the off ox. Now let's see if you are an ox teamster." The cattle driver waved the goad stick and shouted, "Come here, haw!" Check and the chair went in the opposite direction. The driver again waved his goad and yelled, "Come here, haw!" but the would-be ox team continued in the wrong direction. Calling "Come here, haw!" once more he resorted to the old tactics of the ox teamster and gored Check. With a yell of pain Stiles got up and said, "You are hired and I will treat the house."

Ox Bow Hickey Ox Bow Hickey was so called because his back was stooped. He was a "river pig" (driver). When he left the river he sold hospital tickets to the lumberjacks.

Bulldog Mason Bulldog Mason was known along the banks of the river and in the lumber camps as a fighter who was "hard to lick."

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Whitewater Ole He got his name from his skill of running the rapids. The whiter the water, the better he liked it. One of his pet expression was, "I lost my yacket on the yam of de yump." Whitewater Ole was drowned at the time of the tragedy near Holcombe on July 7, when thirteen men were drowned breaking up ajam.

The Rooney Boys Pete, Jim, Bartley and Mike Rooney had the reputation of being able to ride anything heavy enough to float. During the '80s and '90s Pete was considered the best man on logs on the Chippewa River. He met and defeated all competition.

Tricky Mickey Rooney Mike Rooney, better known as "Tricky Mickey," was one of four lumberjack brothers. He was the lightest on his feet of the four and an old saying around Chippewa Falls of his skill in riding logs was, "He could ride a bubble on the water if it were necessary."

Jake and John Pusel While the Rooneys were considered the best men on logs, Jake and John Pusel were considered the best sawyers on the Chippewa waters. The boys spent their Christmas holidays in Chippewa Falls; a week or so before the holidays they would speed up and fall enough timber to keep the skidding crew busy until after their return.

Tanner Josie Bill Josie, better known as "Tanner," was known by every lumberjack on the Chippewa Waters. It was an understood fact that during the winter Bill would visit every camp in the pineries. A good singer and storyteller, he was always welcome at the camp, especially by the lumberjacks who knew the monotony of camp life would be changed when he made his visit.

Pete Jack Bell Roaring Jack Bell, also known as "The Iron Man," was one of the most eccentric and well loved characters on the Chippewa Falls. Born in Worcester County, Maine, in 1841, he began his lumberjack career at the age of fourteen years.

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In the year 1881 he came to Chippewa Falls and spent most of the remainder of his life in that vicinity, logging on the Chippewa River. Bell was easily distinguished because of his outlandish dress. His hair was long and on rare occasions he wore a Stetson hat, but usually he wore nothing on his head. His shirt and jacket were always open at the neck, winter and summer; he wore knee boots and generally one pant leg tucked in and the other hanging out. Then sometimes he would refuse to wear the customary driving boots and wore only rubbers and quite often one of those would be missing. He seldom wore an overcoat nor mittens. In build he was a raw-boned six footer with an unusually wrinkled face. He was called "Roaring Jack" because he had a loud and blustering character. When Bell came west he worked for the Shaw Lumber Company of Eau Claire for two years, landing logs on the Holcombe flowage. Next he took a contract with the Mississippi River Lumber Company of St. Louis. For this concern he logged twenty-two years on Mud Brook, twenty miles north of Chippewa Falls. At this time he also ran a camp on Clam River, later selling out. Bell was one of the greatest loggers and dam builders on the Chippewa waters. He drove his men to the limit, but never expected of them what he was unable to do himself. He was a courageous leader, working his men from 4 A.M. to 10 P.M. which were the hours he kept. Unmindful of time, he swore and cursed his men, at the same time working beside them at the hardest tasks. He seemed immune to cold weather. If one of his men seemed to be suffering from cold, he would rub snow on his bare chest to set himself as an example of hardiness. If logs should be hung up on a sand bar during the spring drive, Roaring Jack would lead his men into the icy water, shouting, "Jump into her boys, it won't burn you." Sometimes on the drive he would step into mud up to his hips-he would become angry and his standard safety valve was, "Get them logs rolling or I'll kill every damn 'mushrat' on Mud Brook." Jack Bell was a man of varied activities; he logged, drove team, ran camps, and drove logs down the river. But his greatest achievements were the dams he built, which were the best in logging country.

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8

The Brewing Industry Charles E. Brown

From the mid-nineteenth through the early twentieth centuries, hardly a town in Wisconsin lacked a brewery. In the 1870s the destruction of Windy City breweries by the Chicago Fire, the proliferation of reliable railroads, and new refrigerator cars combined to vault Milwaukee into prominence as "Beer City" (see Jerry Apps, Breweries of Wisconsin [Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1992]). No wonder musicians as diverse as Cleveland's Polka King Frankie Yankovic and louisiana's rockabilly piano pounder Jerry lee lewis invoked Brew Town through such national hits as "MiIwaukee Polka" and 'What Made Milwaukee Famous (Made a loser Out of Me)," respectively. True to his Siovenian roots and "happy music" genre, Yankovic emphasized beer as an elixir of conviviality: Beer from Milwaukee, The finest beer in town, Makes me so talky. Drink it down, drink it down, drink it down I In contrast to Yankovic, the southern Anglo-Celtic honky-tonk pianist lewis imagined himself a lost soul on the wrong side of a moral line dividing teetotalling Christians from the devil's beersucking disciples. Charles E. Brown's occupational glossary, drawn from Milwaukee brewery workers in 1938, not only illustrates the specialized equipment and corresponding speech that the work demanded, but also reveals the strong presence of German-speaking workers and German American customs. Still, it begs as many questions as it answers: for example, how and from whom did Brown gather this list? How were these words used at work, and why was profanity "noticeably absent"? Not even a foreman screaming "Goff in Himmel!" if some Dummkopf let a bunch of kegs fall off the beerwagon? During the same period Brown also compiled a glossary of occupational speech used by workers in Wisconsin foundries and machine shops. Both lists formed part of the Wisconsin Folklore Project, which Brown initiated. Within the evolution of folklore scholarship, such lists of texts and lore resemble the species of animals and plants and specimens of rocks gathered by biologists and geologists: useful as inventories, for structural examination, and as the basis for typological classifications, but only hinting at the dynamics of either biological or cultural spheres. Reprinted from the papers of the Wisconsin Folklore Project, under the federal auspices of the Works Progress Administration, 1938-a microfilm copy of which is held by the State Historical Society of Wisconsin, reel P84-2053.

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Touring In Milwaukee

8.1. A Milwaukee German amid his city's beer, cheese, pretzels, and sausage in this comic postcard, ca. 1900. Wisconsin Folk Museum Collection.

The brewing industry is a key industry in Wisconsin. The actual brewing of beer now employs few people in proportion to other industries. The bulk of employees are to be found in the bottling department which is quite separate from the brewing process. Employees in the brewing process are mostly German and in many cases German is still the only spoken language. Profanity is noticeably absent among brewery workers. Among workers in the bottling department the conveyor system (endless chain) together with the noise make much conversation impossible. ausbrenner

Device to get rid of old pitch in kegs before adding new pitch.

beaudelot

Copper pipes for cooling beer with beer running outside pipes, copper at top, stainless steel at bottom.

beer schiessen

Beer time for workers.

can packer

Puts bottles in cases or cartons.

carousel

Conveyor.

case-In man

Puts bottles in cases or cartons.

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case unloader

Empties cases or cartons and removes cancelled stamps.

cellar men

Men who work in the cellar.

clutch man

Works on washing machine.

cooker

Man or machine boiling percentage of rice or corn grits (rice or grits mash).

cooperage

Term applied to the wooden keg beer (in some cases to any keg, metal or wood).

depitching

Process of renloving old pitch.

dumper

Empties cases or cartons and -removes cancelled stamps.

enclosed coolers

Double pipe with wort [fermented beer mash] running inside water and ammonia outside.

fass

Removal of beer from fermentation.

filter man

Takes beer from storage tank and filters it.

filter mass

Cotton asbestos pulp used to filter beer before shipping.

flat beer

Beer having no gas [carbonation].

graining out

Taking a spent grain out of lauter tub.

high kraussen

When foam on beer resembles cauliflower.

Irish moss

Used to clarify beer.

Kaiser's geburtstag

Payday (literally "Kaiser's birthday").

kuehl schift

Cooling unit for wort.

Kuesel guhr filter

Uses diatomaceous earth.

lauter tun or lauter tub

Where wort is separated from spent grain.

leaker

Leaking barrel of beer.

mal zeit

Meal time.

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malt mill

Cracks malt kernels so that starch can be reached.

mash cooker, mash tub, mash tun

Introduction and mashing in of grain.

morgen or morgens

Typical form of address regardless of time of day or night.

pfanf

Pipe to create back pressure on grains.

pitch yard

Room where pitch applied to kegs, comes from fact that years ago kegs and casks were taken out into a yard and pitch applied by hand.

preheater

Device to get rid of pitch before adding new pitch.

racker

Man operating racking machine.

racking room

Where kegs are filled.

rice cooker

Machine boiling percentage of rice or com grits.

ruh cellar

Room in which beer ages in tanks not under pressure.

sal tag

Payday (literally "salt day").

schiess eins

Shoot one, drawing a glass of beer and shooting it along the bar to the person ordering it, quite an art to do this without losing any beer.

schlaucker

Man handling hose and emptying tanks.

set-across man

Puts filled cases or cartons on conveyor.

set-in man

Puts bottles in pasteurizer.

settling tubs

Where fermentation is started.

shooting a well

Dropping dynamite and blasting.

skids

Rods on which kegs are rolled.

sorter

Sorts empty bottles.

soaker

Machine where dirty bottles are washed in a solution.

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sparglng

Adding water to mash to dissolve extract from grains.

spritzing

Splashing.

starting tanks

Where fermentation is started.

steamer man

Checks quantity of caustic in solution and temperature of pasteurizer.

sternewirt

Brewery bar where beer is dispensed free.

stieffel wichsen

Transfer beer from one department to another (literally, "to wax shoes").

take-out man

Takes bottles out of pasteurizer.

throw-down man

Puts empty cases or cartons on chute.

throw-on man

Puts empty cases on conveyor.

tmb

Precipitation of aluminoids and sludge from wort.

tuer zu

A typical sign equivalent to "shut the door."

wort cooler

Equipment to cool hot wort to fermentation temperature.

wrench immer aufhangen

A typical sign combining English and German [meaning, "always hang up your wrench"].

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9

Apple-Picking Terms from Wisconsin Frederic G. Cassidy

Thanks in part to the efforts of the University of Wisconsin's Extension system, apple production was established in the state early in the twentieth century. The apple industry persists in the hill country of western Wisconsin, from whence these terms derive, as well on the Bayfield Peninsula that juts into lake Superior. Frederic Cassidy's elegantly written study provides both a solid glossary and a step-by-step elaboration of the apple-picking process in the 1940s. Would that similar studies had been conducted for Wisconsin's other specialized, agrarian industries centered on, for example, cranberries, ginseng, and sphagnum moss. (For a glimpse of tobacco talk in the 1980s, see chapter 47, ''Tobacco Growing in Southwestern Wisconsin: Ethnicity in a Traditional labor Practice," pp. 76-85.) Now a professor emeritus at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, Frederic Cassidy was active in the Wisconsin Folklore Society of the 1930s, as well as the short-lived Badger Folklore Society that formed during Wisconsin's 1948 centennial. In 1947 he published The Place Names of Dane County, Wisconsin (Greensboro, N.C.: American Dialect Society), a model study that includes a dozen place names associated with local legends. long an advocate of the importance of fieldwork and tape-recorded interviews as the primary methods for understanding the nature of dialect, Frederic Cassidy became the director of the American Dialect Society's ambitious dictionary project in 1962. Drawing upon his understanding that "the numerous local differeQces in Wisconsin speech could be correlated with setttement history and other social factors," Cds\idy oversaw the development of questionnaires eventually employed by field workers to documen't dialect throughout the United States. The result is the massive, comprehensive, and still-in-process Dictionary of American Regional English, the third volume of which was published in 1996, with at least two volumes to come. For an account of this project's genesis and methods, see its introduction (Dictionary ofAmerican Regional English, vol. I, Frederic G. Cassidy, chief editor [Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1985]). Reprinted from American Speech 18 (1 943):74-76.

On the bluffs above Gays Mills, in the Kickapoo Valley in western Wisconsin, is an apple orchard region of about 1,200 acres which produces annually about 350,000 bushels. The fruit is picked mostly by men from nearby farms, and packed by their wives and daughters. Some outsiders there are (as I was), but not enough to affect local usage. Following is a list of words which I found in use in Kickapoo orchards this year (1942) by apple-pickers and -packers. The picker first puts on a PICKING-SACK or -BAG, which straps over the soulders and across the back. It is of canvas, the top held open and reinforced with metal to the shape of a kidney, the

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9.1. Sorting apples in the Kickapoo valley, late 1940s. Photo: John Newhouse, State Historical Society of Wisconsin, WHi (N48) 13049.

concave part of which fits against the picker's stomach. The bottom is open, but the picker folds it back on itself and clips it to the face of the sack, and the weight of the apples keeps it folded. When it is full, he unclips it and lets it unfold, and the apples roll out below. One orchard uses instead a small PAIL or BUCKET, which hooks on to the front of the harness. Early in the season when only part of the apples are ripe, the trees are picked for SIZE AND COLOR, which means that only those that have HALF COLOR (are 50% red) or more, and are no smaller than a certain size (according to the variety of the apple being picked) are taken. At this time, each picker carries a SIZE RING of sturdy metal, and picks only such apples as will not pass through it. A picker may BOTTOM a tree (picking everything he can reach standing on the ground), or TOP it, taking off the highest ones. But when the season is advanced and all or nearly all the apples on a tree are ripe, he STRIPS or CLEANS it, taking everything. This he likes best, as he can go fast and make most money. He does not like to pick

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CASSIDY: Apple-Picking Termsfrom Wisconsin STRAYS (trees planted among those of a different variety, usually replacing others that died) because they are scattered throughout the orchards, and he spends his time dragging his ladder about instead of picking. With each crew of pickers is an ORCHARD BOSS, who does not pick but assigns the trees, sees that supplies are brought (crates, baskets, drinking water, etc.), and that the picking is steady and careful. The picker must not pinch, scratch, or bruise the apples, and must leave no SPURS on them (the small bit of twig just above the stem). What he picks will later be sorted by the packers into FIRSTS (the best of all) and SECONDS (those with small blemishes, worm holes, etc.); but these are never mixed with those picked up off the ground. The latter are officially known as WINDFALLS (though the wind has not always been to blame), and colloquially as FALLS, DROPS, or (once gathered) PICK-UPS. The picker empties his sack into a wooden CRATE which holds about a bushel, and the full crates are taken to the packing shed on a WHOOPEE (TRUCK), a wondrous contraption made by taking the body off an old Ford or Chevrolet, and substituting a flat wooden platform directly on the chassis. The whoopee holds about twenty crates, and, with the aid of chains, makes its way up hill and down, throughout the orchard, without the benefit of roads. Taking in the apples on the whoopee is called SKIDDING them, probably an inherited term, for when the slopes are too steep or the ground too wet even for the whoopee, a SKID is used-an affair like a stoneboat, drawn by a cateripllar tractor. Once the apples have been picked, they must go to the (PACKING) SHED, a large, bam-like building, sometimes with a refrigerator room attached. The sorting and packing are mostly done by hand, though at the height of the season some orchards use SORTING MACHINES. The packers stand at PACKING TABLES (one orchard puts these right out among the trees). The whole process of packing is done upside down, the apples being all in place before the basket is put on over them. The packer begins by placing on her table a FACER, a sort of metal basin with a vertical flange of the same diameter as the top of a bushel basket. Into this are put carefully the apples which will appear on top when the customer sees the basket. These are, of course, the best looking, and are also called FACERS. Just before they are put in, the metal facer is lined with a COLLAR, the festooned bit of green or purple paper that edges the top of a full bushel. The facer apples hold this in place; then on top of them is scattered a handfulof CONFETTI, or thin strips of colored tissue paper. Next, the TUB is put in place. This is of galvanized metal, the size and shape of a bushel basket, but open at both ends; it is lined with a paper

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Part One. Terms and Talk LINER, and both are fit over the flange and rest on the metal facer. Into this form the rest of the apples are put, and when it is full the tub is removed, leaving the apples held in place by the liner. Over this is inverted the BASKET, and the packer's job is done. The whole bushel is now turned right side up by a lad called the BASKET TURNER, or, where machinery is used for this purpose, it is done on a MULE. In any case, the basket turner must now press down the apples well, take off the facer, place a circular PADDING of paper over the apples to protect them, then put on the LID, and the basket is ready for shipping.

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10

Farm Talk from Marathon County Roger Mitchell

For more than a century Wisconsin's farm population has declined steadily, with one "farm crisis" succeeding another. Those family farmers who persist have typically relied not only on their own skill and hard work, but also on the assistance of neighbors, grandparents, parents, and siblings. The participation of farmers in a multifaceted and multigenerational community is particularly evident in the rich and, to outsiders, often esoteric quality of their occupational speech. Roger Mitchell's elaboration of vocabulary, proverbs, and expressions of belief is exemplary of the kind of talk a careful listener might hear amidst Wisconsin farmers over the varied course of a typical year-which is exacrly how these terms were collected. From 1979 to 1982, Roger Mitchell-recipient of a ph.D. in Folklore from Indiana University and a professor at the University of Wisconsin-Eau Claire-traveled to Easton, in Marathon County, during summer vacations, weekends, and school vacations to work and hang out on the Thorpe family farm. The result was a full-length study following the outline advanced in Mitchell's introduction: I will tie the Thorpe family's traditions to those historical currents which initiated that great transfer of a large portion of Norway's poor to the New World with its beckoning empty land. From these beginnings will follow the generation by generation development of what is today the Emery Thorpe dairy farm, concluding with the great-grandsons of the original immigrants, Karl and Anne. In the process of lining out the several lives of hard work that culminated in this one family farm, I will take care to present those traditional complexes of farming practices, technology, and attitudes that make Karl's great-grandsons willing and able to invest their lives in the continuation of the Thorpe dairy farm. (13) The "Farm Talk" reprinted here formed the appendices to Mitchell's larger study. Much of it was set down "on the job" as, amid various activities, he kept pen and notebook in a pocket to record an emergent word or phrase and its meaning: This is a body of tradition not easily come by. There is little of the comfortable sitting down with some elderly informant, tape recorder on the ready, and probing his fond memories of things long gone. Instead, it calls for observation and participation, with much information collected within the ordinary ebb and Row of everyday affairs. It demands large segments of time, for the tempo of the farm changes from season to season. Spring planting, summer haying and silo filling, fall harvesting of grains and straw for bedding, and the long winter's milking and caring for the animals while in the barn: each of these periods has its own finite characteristics. (10)

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10.1. Charlie Kubista brings in the hay, with pitchforks aligned in traditional parallel fashion, rural Sarona, mid-1930s. Wisconsin Folk Museum Collection, courtesy of Rose Kubista Tomesh.

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MITCHELL: Farm Talk/rom Marathon County Mitchell's willingness to experience each period stemmed in part from his similar roots on a dairy farm in wooded northern Maine during the 1930s and 1940s-a place where, as in Wisconsin, farmers have also been loggers, hunters, trappers, fishermen, carpenters, and mechanics. Consequenrly, the farm talk reprinted here is accompanied by indications of the presence, divergence, or total absence of a given Wisconsin expression in Maine. likewise Mitchell was well aware that the "wisdom" of proverbs and the "truth" of folk beliefs tend, for those who use them, to cluster variously along continua of acceptance and reiection, seriousness and iocularity. As he put it, the Wisconsin dairy farmer does not wait for the oak leaves to attain the size of a squirrel's foot before he plants his corn. As soon as the soil dries out enough to get on it with his heavy machinery he begins to put in his crops. Nor does he hold back from mowing hay when he notices the family dog eating grass, although a local saying has it this is a sure sign of rain. He pays much more attention to radio and television weather forecasts, even though he realizes that the weatherman, too, is often wrong. Why then have I heard so many bits of lore referring to old ideas about animal behavior, health, bad luck, and weather in time spent on the Thorpe farm? (9) The answers-for there is no single answer-range from the desire to control, if only through imagination, forces that are perpetually beyond control; to romantic nostalgia for old ways and their practitioners; to the entertainment value of some topic that "makes for good conversation anyway." Reprinted from Roger E. Mitchell, From Fathers to Sons: A Wisconsin Family Farm, a special issue of Midwestern Journal of Language and Folklore 10: 1-2 (1984): 146-67, appendices 1-3.

Part I:

Selected Vocabulary

This listing of words and phrases is not meant to be comprehensive. I have not included many words which are common to dairy farming on the national level and would appear to be part of the national vocabulary or at least no farther from the average reader than a standard dictionary. I have not attempted to search out any particular word or expression but rather recorded this vocabulary as it appeared in day-to-day activities. A number of terms included are from an earlier period of time, when the Maine or Wisconsin farmer worked at least part-time in the woods and with horses. Using Karl Thorpe and others of the original settlers as the first generation, his children as the second generation, grandchildren as the third and greatgrandchildren as the fourth, I will indicate those words of phrases that are not used by all three surviving generations (2nd, 3rd, 4th). Those common to both Maine and Wisconsin will be in upper case. Some of the words or phrases included are probably local and not widely used. If Maine has an alternative word or phrase I will include it in the definition. By "Maine" I am referring to my home area in Northern Maine. Aiming fluid. Any of the inexpensive, strong wine brought to hunting shack by members of the hunting gang. 4th. ARTIFICIAL BREEDING. The bull semen is brought to the farm by the technician who breeds the cow via a hypodermic syringe and a tube. Back-shooting. When a deer which is being driven doubles back on the drivers and is shot.

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Balloon barn. Barn with an arched roof. BARK PEELER. A dull cant hook (or peavey) that does not get a solid hold on a log slips and tears the bark. Barn floor. The space between two mows that allows tractors or horses to pull in their loads. Used as an extra hay mow or machine storage today. Barn hill. The stone ramp going up to the barn floor. Beggies. A variety of turnip the rutabaga, earlier raised for cow feed, and a favorite vegetable. Bird boards. Thin throw-away slabs removed from logs in the sawing process. So called because the children use them to make bird houses. Bird hawk. Any of several species of small hawk. Maine: Chicken hawk. The Block. A section of land with roads completely around it. To the Thorpes the particular section which includes the Emery Thorpe farm. Borrow. Used as a substitute for "loan." "He borrowed me his tractor." Breaking plow. A heavy one-share plow used to plow up virgin land after it has been cleared of trees and stumps. Breed back. To have a milking cow bred again usually a couple or three months after she has had a calf. Brush fence. A crude fence made of piled brush and trees. 2nd, 3rd. Maine: Hedge fence. Thus the Maine saying "Ugly as a hedge." Bull cook. Assistant cook in a lumbering camp. 2nd. Bull gear. First gear in a tractor. See "creeper gear." Maine: Bull low. Bull over. If a cow has been bred back and does not become pregnant she is said to have "bulled over." Maine: "Bulling" means "in heat." BUNGED-UP. To be used up, not able to do anything. In wide usage in Maine. 2nd generation in Wisconsin. BUNK. The heavy crosspiece on lumbering sleds (sleighs, bobsleds) on which the logs rested. 2nd, 3rd. BUZZ ON. "To have a buzz on." Drunk. 2nd, 3rd. Cant hook. Wooden handled tool with a pivoting hook for rolling logs. A similar tool with a heavy metal spike in the end is used in Maine and called a peavey or cant dog. CARRIERS. The heavy timbers that support the floor joists as they pass from wall to wall. Casein. The phosphoprotein in milk which forms the basic protein in cheese when curdled by rennet. Can also be used in the manufacture of plastic-like material glue and coldwater paint. Made from the whey as a by-product. CAST HER WITHERS. For a cow to expel her uterus in the birthing process. Maine: To cast her wethers. 2nd, 3rd. Younger farmers use the technical term learned from veterinarian: prolapsed uterus. CATCH. When a cow becomes pregnant after breeding she is said to have caught. Catfaces. A scar on the side of a tree where the tree has not healed well from an InJUry.

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MITCHELL: Farm Talk/rom Marathon County In Maine called the hen house. In Maine, the coop is a small structure, often for one hen and her chicks. Chip rocks. Fieldstone consisting of chunks of broken granite, large and small. Also called "sliver rock." Chopper box. A high-sided wagon into which green hay is blown from the silage chopper. It has also an unloading device powered by the tractor's power take-off, which feeds the silage into the silo filler. CLEAN . For a cow to expel her afterbirth. CLEANINGS. The afterbirth. CLEAR CUT. Removing all trees from a selected area. CLEARING. The first small fields cleared from the woods by the original settlers. 2nd. General usage in Maine. CLOSE TO THE AXE. To be running low on firewood. Maine: Close to the saw. COBBLESTONES. Round, water-worn stones. Colored cows. Guernseys and Jerseys. Popular breeds before quantity of milk became more important than butterfat [content]. COMING IN. Due to have a calf. "A cow came in today." COMPANY MACHINE. A piece of machinery owned in company with others. COOKIE. A woods cook's helper. 2nd. General usage in Maine. Cooning apples. Stealing apples. CORD WOOD. Firewood cut in four foot lengths for sale, usually as furnace fuel. 2nd, 3rd. General usage in Maine. CORNER BINDS. Short chains used to bind the two outside on the bottom layer to a sleigh. 2nd, 3rd. cow JOCKEYS. Traveling cattle buyers. 4th. Cow poke. A metal collar with spurs top and bottom, and put around a cow's neck to keep her from pushing her head out through the fence. Creeper gear. First gear in truck of tractor. Maine: Bull low or the amen hole. Crotch. A crude sled made from a tree crotch and used to move logs from the woods to the pile. It could also have a body, one end of which dragged on the ground, for use in hauling hemlock bark. 2nd. CULBERT. Culvert. 2nd. General usage in Maine. Cutover. Forest land in Northern Wisconsin after timber companies had removed all the marketable timber. Often further damaged by forest fires. Cutter. A small sled once used for transporting people. In Maine called a sleigh or pungo See "sleigh." 2nd, 3rd. DEAD HEAD. A large rock just below the surface, struck when plowing. 3rd. Death Row. The portion of the barn where culled cows are tied, waiting for the truck that will haul them away. 4th. Deck. Logs piled on skids, the deck. On the Thorpe farm logs stacked at the mill, ready for sawing. Piling them thusly is decking them. DINNER. The farmer's noon meal. A lunch is a snack. See "supper." DISK. A harrow with cutting disks used to break up sods in newly plowed fields. CHICKEN COOP.

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Down Cow Company. Companies that specialize in buying sick, dying, and dead cows. The prices are low. Dozy. Rotten trees. Maine: Doty. Drag. A harrow used for leveling out plowed and disked fields preparatory to planting. Maine: Spring tooth harrow. DRAG. A log of wood cut for firewood. 3rd. DRAG SAW. A crosscut saw, often powered by a gas engine, used to saw large logs into firewood. 2nd, 3rd. Dry Pile. To stack newly sawed lumber with narrow sticks between layers to facilitate its drying. Maine: Sticking. Dump planks. Narrow planks laid on a wagon for picking rocks. The rocks are dumped by tilting the planks one by one. DUNG. In Maine a word that can be used in polite company in such compounds as "dung fork," "dung spreader," and "dung heap." ("A rooster is king on his own dung heap.") Considered coarse in Easton, Wisconsin. Easton Tail-Walk. To reduce a cow's tendency to kick or to encourage her to go by forcing her tail up at the base. I have never seen this done in Maine. 4th. EDGING. To run boards through the sawing process to remove bark from the edges and square up the timber. Elm. Rock elm, a favorite for barn timbers, being long and straight. Also called "bastard elm." EVENER. Wooden bar which pivots on a pin and to the ends of which the whiffle trees are hooked. It allows the teamster to adjust the rigging to throw the greater part of the load on the stronger horse. 2nd, 3rd. Eye-ball, eye-balling. To judge the alignment of timbers and buildings, to sight by eye without the use of instruments. Farmer's haircut. A closely trimmed cut which leaves a band of light skin contrasting with the tanned portions of neck and face, especially above the ears. 4th. Feed alley. The space in front of the cows where they are fed. FOOL KILLERS. Dead limbs that can become dislodged when a tree is cut and cause fatal injuries to a careless sawyer. 2nd, 3rd. General usage in Maine. FOOTINGS. The broad, often metal reinforced, layer of concrete on which the basement wall is placed. FREE MARTIN. A sterile heifer, this caused by the heifer having been born in company with a bull. The male's hormones cause the female reproductive organs to develop improperly. 2nd, 3rd. GARGET. Thick, clotted milk caused by mastitis. 2nd, 3rd. General usage in Maine. GIRT. A heavy, horizontal plank running from post to post in a barn, to which the boards are nailed and which provides rigidity. For example: "The mow is filled to the first girt." 2nd, 3rd. General usage in Maine. GOOD CATCH. When the grass germinates well. GO-ROUND. A session or encounter, verbal or physical. Grade entry. A house door level with the ground, off to one side or in the back, used by the family when coming in from work. Keeps dirt out of the parlor, etc.

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MITCHELL: Farm Talk/rom Marathon County Granny hole. First gear. See "creeper gear." Green chop. To machine chop young oats and grass into moveable feeder wagons, to provide a high protein supplement, especially for milking cows in summer pastures. GUMMING OUT. To deepen the grooves between the teeth on a saw after the teeth have worn too short for good cutting. Hammered up. Drunk. 3rd, 4th. Hammering. Swedging a saw. To put set in the teeth of a saw by broadening the points by "hammering" them. Hand pike. A short, stout pole used to pry logs. Maine: Hand spike. Hatch around. Hustle around. 4th. HAYBINE. A combination machine which both cuts and crimps hay causing it to dry faster than if just cut. From "combine." Haylage. Green, chopped hay, partially dried and stored in a silo from "silage." HAYWIRE OUTFIT. A farm or outfit where things are not properly repaired, but "Just wired together." From the use of haywire for temporary repairs. HEAD CHEESE. A highly spiced sausage-like food made from the pig's head and put in broad pans rather than in sausage casings. HEAVES. A lung disease common among horses and aggravated by hot humid weather and dusty hay. HEMLOCK. A preferred timber for building barns, being highly resistant to rot. In Maine, spruce is the favored barn timber. HEMLOCK BARK. Peeled off in four foot lengths and [once] sold to tanneries because of its high tannic acid content. No longer done. 2nd. HIP ROOF. A rural term for a gambrel roof. Hog's back. A sharp ridge found in glaciated terrain. Maine: Horse back. Hot deck. A temporary pile of logs. Maine: Hot yard. 2nd. Hung-up. Trees that get caught in other trees instead of falling when cut. Maine: Lodged. Illegal hay. Hay put in the mows before being properly dried. 4th. Ironwood. Strong heavy tree valued for whiffletrees and handles. Maine: Hornbeam. JAMMER. Log jammer. A device using pulleys or, today, hydraulic power for loading logs. The one using pulleys and horsepower was called "parbuckle" in Maine. Jig fish. To fish with a hand-held line. Called "hand line" in Maine. "To jig" means "to snag" fish in Maine. Jim pole. A pole rigged up with a pulley for getting timbers of other heavy objects in place. Johnson bar. Floor shifting lever on a truck. Jumper bull. A young bull of no particular heritage pastured with heifers to get them with calf for the first time. Maine: Settler or dunghill bull. Kiln wood. Wood of not very high quality, once cut and sold to brickyards for firing the brick kiln. 2nd. KINGPIN. The heavy iron pin that passes through the bunk and holds it to the sleighs. 2nd,3rd.

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Klub. A blood sausage formed into a loaf rather than put into a casing. LAND POOR. Owning more land than can be profitably worked. Lefsa. A potato pancake. Norwegian. Lines. Maine: reins. 2nd, 3rd. Loafing bam. A low, sheet metal and pole structure, open on one side, usually to the south. Used to house heifers, save barn space, and reduce daily chores. LODGED HAY. Hay that has been pressed to the ground by wind and rain, making it hard to mow. See "hung-up." LOG. Used to separate the cutting of timber from the cutting of pulp. "To go logging." Lutefisk. Dried and salted cod that has been soaked in fresh water, put through a mild lye solution, steamed or boiled, and eaten with melted butter. Norwegian, from "lye" and "fish." MAKING SAG. The filling out of a cow's udders as she approaches the delivery of a calf. With heifers a sure sign that they are with calf. Making wood. Cutting the winter's supply of firewood. Maine: Cutting wood. Manure boat. A homemade, sled-like conveyance used to haul away the manure in the winter. It was brought into the barn with horse or tractor, loaded, taken out to the fields, and spread. Maple. Hard maple. The sugar maple. Maine: Rock maple. Used as barn timbers. Soft maple: a second grade tree. Maine: White maple. Matting. The final working over of cheese solids after the whey has been recovered. 2nd,3rd. MILK PAIL. The tinned or stainless steel pail used to handle milk, as distinguished from the common galvanized pail used to feed. Mortgage raisers. Pigs raised as a secondary source of income. 2nd, 3rd. Mortgaging a buck. To have a preliminary drink from the wine bought to celebrate the shooting of a buck. 4th. MOW. That portion of the barn used for hay and straw, as compared to the barn floor. Also called in Maine "bay," as in "two-bay barn." Mud. Mortar, as used for building walls and chimneys. Mud hock. A wooden tray for carrying or holding mortar. A hod. NECK YOKE. A yoke which holds up the pole on horse-drawn machinery and is fastened to the horses' collars. 2nd~ 3rd. New breaking. Newly cleared land ready for planting. Maine: New land. Nigger heads. Large, round, water-worn stones. NO-SEE-UMS. Midges, gnats. 2nd. General usage in Maine. Notch. The cut made in the front of the tree, preparatory to sawing it down. Maine: Undercut. NUBBINS. Small, not well-filled-out corn cobs. 2nd, 3rd. General usage in Maine. Nurse crop. A crop such as alfalfa planted with oats. It will mature the second year. Oak. Red oak. Considered a top grade hardwood timber. White oak. Strong, tough wood favored for use as handles, wagon poles, whiffletrees, etc. Black oak. A scruffy, second class oak. Oak does not grow in Northern Maine.

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Old Stump Blower. Strong white port wine, bought for hunting to celebrate the shooting of a buck. 4th. ON RUBBER. "To put on rubber," describes the shiftover from metal-wheeled machines to rubber tires, when the original steel wheels were replaced with rubber. Open up. To split the bark on a tree, preparatory to removing its bark with a bark spud. Maine: Splitting. OVERALL JACKET. Denim jacket. 2nd, 3rd. OVERALL TROUSERS. Jeans. 2nd,3rd. PEAVEY. Similar to a cant hook but with a strong metal spike in the end. Also called in Maine "cant dog." 2nd. General usage in Maine. PIKEMEN. Also polemen. Used long poles tipped with metal pikes, and guided logs on river drives. 2nd. Pole saw. An engine-powered circle saw used for cutting logs and small trees into firewood. Maine: Circular saw. Pole wood. Limbs and small trees cut for firewood. Maine: Circular wood. POPPLE. The poplar tree. The major pulpwood tree in Wisconsin. Two kinds, "green" and "yellow," so-called from the color of the bark. PULPWOOD. In Wisconsin mostly poplar and cut in 100" lengths. In Maine, mostly balsam fir and spruce, cut in 40" lengths. Pump house. Houses the pump by pond, spring or well. Maine: Well house. PURLINE PLATE. The timber which supports the rafters at a point between the eaves and the peak. PURLINE POST. The upright timber that supports the purline plate and thus governs the height of a roof in a gambrel-roofed bam. Rakings. That hay left scattered on the field by the loaders, and reraked so as not to lose any hay. Maine: Scatterings. No longer done. 2nd, 3rd. Rampike. A standing, dead tree trunk. Maine: Stub. RAVES. The U-shaped metal strap that holds the crossbar in place on a sleigh runner. 2nd,3rd. Raw Fries. Potatoes peeled and fried, especially when there are no cold boiled potatoes for hash. Maine: Fried potatoes. Rennet. An enzyme that curdles milk, traditionally prepared from animal stomachs. Used in the cheese-making process. RING. To cut around a hemlock tree trunk at 4 foot intervals in order to remove the bark for sale to tanneries. 2nd, 3rd. River hogs. Men who took the rafts of lumber down the river. 2nd. Rocking chair rack. A large set of horns on a buck deer. Not many of this size are shot. ROLLING HITCH. To so hook a chain of skidding tongs that the log will roll and free itself from obstructions when the horses begin to pull. 2nd, 3rd. Run. The distance between the runners on a sleigh, its width. "An eight foot run." 2nd,3rd. RUNS. Diarrhea, animals or humans.

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The calibrated rule by which one calculates the board feet in a log. A crotched tree. 3rd. General usage in Maine. Scrubs. Cows of no particular ancestry, such as were common at the turn of the century. Maine: Dunghill breeds. Second crop. The second cutting of hay, which has more leaves and higher protein rating. Maine: After grass, and used for pasture. SECOND GROWTH. Trees that have grown up after the virgin timber has been cut. Self-binder. A reaper that both reaps and ties the grain into bundles, 2nd, 3rd. Maine: Reaper. SELL ON STUMP. To sell one's timber to someone else who does the actual cutting. Maine: To sell stumpage. SETTLE. To get a cow with calf. SHAKY HEMLOCK. Trees whose growth layers have separated, causing splits in the lumber sawed from such logs {"shaky lumber"}. SHARP SHOD. When the calks on a horse's shoes have been drawn out to· points to prevent slipping on ice. 2nd, 3rd. Shearings. Timberland that has been clean-cut, with everything cut. Maine: A chopping. Sheeny man. Horse and cow dealer. Rag buyer. "A pretty sharp dealer." Sheeting. The boards or plywood covering the outside walls of a building. Perhaps from "sheathing," as in "sheathing paper." Shined up. Somewhat intoxicated. SHIPPING FEVER. Severe diarrhea in cows. So called because it is common in newly purchased animals. Maine: Referred to respiratory infections common in horses just shipped in from the West. Short jeans. Jeans (overall pants) as compared to overalls. 3rd. Shypoke. The bittern. Maine: Shitpoke. Silo corn. Com planted to fill the silo or to green chop. Maine: Fodder corn. Skidding. The pulling of logs out of the woods. Maine: Twitching. Skidding tongs. Heavy tongs used for skidding, instead of a chain. Slab Wood. Slabs sawed into firewood. Maine: 16" pieces of logs split into slabs for use in cookstoves. SLABS. The sides that are sawed off a log to square it when sawing out lumber. SLASHINGS. Wisconsin: the same as shearings. Maine: the debris left after logging or pulping a timber lot. Sleigh. Double sleds used for hauling logs. Maine: Bobsleds. Slippers. The floor joists. Maine: Stringers. Perhaps from "sleepers." Slippery Jims. A sweet cucumber pickle, consisting of peeled, ripe cucumbers. Sliver rock. Chunks of broken granite. See "chip rocks." Slusher. Twin-handled earth-moving scoop, pulled by horses. Maine: Scraper. 2nd, 3rd. Smart weed. A hot-tasting weed. Smoke wood. Basswood. Doesn't bum well. Light, poor quality lumber or wood from the basswood tree. SCALE RULE.

SCHOOLMARM.

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A small, smoky fire to keep away biting insects. 2nd. General usage in Maine. Snake, snaking. Pulling logs out of the woods. SNAP A CHALK LINE. After rubbing a [string or wire] line with chalk and extending it between two points, to snap it against the surface to provide a straight line. Snat. Snathe. The handle of a scythe. 2nd, 3rd. Sooner hound. A poor hunting dog. "Sooner lie down than hunt." 4th. Spiking. Putting bundles of grain into the threshing machine. Maine: Feeding. SPILES. The hollow tubes, wooden or metal, put in the hole bored in a sugar maple for the sap to run through. Maine: taps. SPUD. A metal tool used for prying the bark off trees. A bark spud. Spud man. He who debarks a tree. Maine: The spudder. Squirts. Severe diarrhea in calves. Stab churn. Plunger chum. 2nd, 3rd. STAGS. Boots with the tops cut off, or shortened trousers. Stake out. To tie an animal on a chain so it can graze. Maine: tethering. Stay lathe. Boards nailed to hold timbers temporarily in place on a construction job. Maine: brace. Stepping Off. To estimate length by counting one's steps. Maine: Pacing off. STONE DRAG. A conveyance made of planks for hauling off big stones. In Maine, such stones are called "drag rocks." Stone fence. Fieldstones piled along property lInes so as to form a fence. Maine: Stone wall. Straight on for coons. A dog that will run only coons, will not be sidetracked by deer or rabbits. 4th. Striping. Smoothing the mortar between concrete blocks with a bent 1/2"pipe. SULKY PLOW. A plow having wheels and a seat for the driver. 2nd, 3rd. SUPPER. The evening meal. Dinner is the noon meal. Lunch is a snack. Swamp. A low, wet part of a farm. In Maine, a swamp is in the woods. In a field or pasture, wetland is a "swale." Swamp auger. A mythical, mole-like creature. In the old days, a mythical tool that greenhorns were sent in search of. SWAMPER. One who cleared brush and trees from logging roads. 2nd. Swamp grass. A coarse, wild grass found in wet areas. Maine: swale grass. Swamp hook. Hook on the end of a chain, used to load logs or pull them out of mud and snow. Sway bars. Two poles that connected the two sleighs used in logging. Swede saw. The bucksaw. Maine: Frenchman's fiddle. Swedge. See "Hammering." Swing man. The man on a sawing crew who carries out two tasks: helps roll the logs on the carriage and also aids in carrying away the newly sawn lumber. Sy. The scythe. Tail sawyer. He who carries away and piles the newly sawn lumber. SMUDGE.

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To bore a hole in sugar maples to accomodate the tap (spile); or to make an incision in a cow that is bloated, in order to let out the accumulated gas. Talk like a sausage. To talk wildly, without common sense. B.S. Third eye. To shoot a sick animal. "Give it a third eye." 4th. Three banger. A cow giving milk from only three quarters. Related to "two banger," a two cylinder engine. Three bottom woman. Strong and of substantial size. Related to "three bottom plow," one with three shares. Threshing rig. Threshing machine. Throw a calf. Freshen, give birth. TIMBER CRUISER (or land-looker). One who surveys a wood lot for its timber potential. TOE NAIL. To nail in at angles, such as in a wall joist. TOPS. The remnants of a logging operation, but not clear cut. Top shelf. First class. TOTE ROADS. Roads for "toting" supplies in to a woods camp. 2nd. TRACE CHAINS. The chains running from the whiffletrees and attached to the horse's harness. 2nd, 3rd. Tree bind. A log that because of its growth pattern will tighten up and "bind" the saw. TROTS. Diarrhea, of both animals or humans. Also called in Maine "backdoor" trots," from "back house" or "privy." Turn around. A road or driveway with a circle or cleared area for turning at the end. Maine: "round turn." UP NORTH. The northern part of the state. In Maine also called "Up River." WASHBOARDING. When a road gets out of shape and forms wave-like ridges across it. Water out. To de-salt meat by soaking it in fresh water. Maine: freshen out. WHIFFLETREES. Singletrees. The pivoting wooden bars forming part of a machine, to which the horse is attached by its trace chains. Whistle trousers. Corduroy knickers. Made a noise as the wearer walked. 3rd. WING SHOULDERS. A cow that stands with her shoulder blades turned out from her body. Often caused by bad legs or ankles. WOODBOX. "In the woodbox." Sick. Maine: Sick abed in the woodbox. Wood butcher. The woods camp carpenter. 2nd. WRAPPER CHAIN. The chain bound around a load of logs. 2nd, 3rd. Maine: wrapping chain. WRECKING BAR. A carpenter's tool for pulling spikes and prying timbers. In Maine also called "pinch bar" and "spike puller." Yellow dog weather. Pleasant weather that causes boys especially to feel lazy. To have the "yellow dogs." YOUNG STOCK. More commonly called "heifers" in Easton. TAP.

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Part II: Proverbs and Proverbial Phrases Those proverbial expressions which are also used in Maine are marked with an asterisk (*). Annotations are added where deemed necessary for fuller understanding, along with those Maine expressions that appear to be variants on the same theme. The arrangement is alphabetical by key words. Ankle deep. To be involved to the point of being unable to make a change. Maine: "Up to my knees." *Barbwire. The cow "can go through four strands of barbwire without touching a strand." Said of animals that constantly get out of the pasture. Beans. "Not worth a row of beans." Maine: "Not worth a hill of beans." *Blood. "Like getting blood out of a turnip." Won't pay debts. Bricks. "A few bricks short of a load." Somewhat retarded. *Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Full of pep and ready to go. *Bull. "Couldn't hit a bull's ass with a barn shovel." Poor marksman. Chest high by the Fourth of July. The hoped-for progress of the corn crop. Closer than a sailor's haircut. Cutting hay so as to leave a very short stubble. *Colder than a witch's elbow. Cleaned up from the "witch's teat" commonly heard in Maine. *Cost all outdoors. Expensive. Devil stands ready. He takes advantage of carelessness. *Dog. "Every dog has its day." In Maine the saying continues: "and every bitch two afternoons." *Dog. "If you kick a dog enough, he'll bite." Eat. "They'll eat anything that won't eat them first." Strong appetites. Father. "A father and his son ought to live at least a forty apart." Gall. Salesmen "have the gall of a scalded cat." Maine: "the gall of a government mule." Goldenrod. "When the goldenrod is yellow and the oats are brown, it's time to harvest." Half an inch. "Half an inch is a lot if it's on the end of your nose." Used in reference to the care necessary in carpenter work. *Hay. "If you can't hay, you might as well go fishing." That is take some time off. *Haying on the halves. To do a poor job of mowing, leaving a lot of hay standing or mauled down. *Hide mistakes. "A good carpenter can hide his mistakes." *Hindsight is 20-20. Hot to Trot. Ready to go, often used unfavorably of women. Idle hands are the Devil's tools. Idleness is the Devil's workshop. Last dog. "To stay until the last dog is hung." To remain to the end of activities. Maine: "To stay until the last gun is fired." *Make do, wear it out, or do without.

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*Nail. "Couldn't nail a nail." Not handy with tools. Old. Too soon old and too late smart. Pick dry. "You can't pick a field dry." In stony land, you can never get them all. Plate. "It's on Joe's plate." It is his fault. *Rain. "The more rain, the more rest." In Mqine, often followed with "Another day in the hay." That is, to sleep in the haymow. Ready to Hoe. To be ready to go to work. Resting. "Do it while you're resting." Do it in your spare time. *Rot-rust. "They'll rot out before they wear out." In Maine, more often "rust out" instead of "rot out." Said of farmers' leaving machines outdoors. *Setting hen. "Couldn't pull a setting hen (or cluck) off her nest." In reference to a poor team of horses or a small tractor. *Shake a stick at. "Come tax time there were more poor teams than you could shake a stick at." Large numbers. *Shirt sleeves. "From shirt sleeves to shirt sleeves in three generations." The heirs fail to maintain the prosperous business developed by the grandfather. Shoot snipes. "Might as well go West and shoot snipes." To be engaged in useless activity. Signs. "All signs fail in dry weather." Humorous comment relating to weather omens. *Sing a different tune. "He sang a different tune when his kids started doing the things he used to do." *Sit on your thumb. To have no chair in which to sit. Snuff. "Giving a Dane a chew of snuff is like giving him a nickel." He takes half the box (from when snuff was a dime a box). Spend money. "He spends money like it was coming out of a well." Maine: "Go through money like water." *Stay with. "Fried potatoes stay with a man." Nourishing. *Step. "One step forward and two backwards." Poor management. Strainer pad. "That town is the strainer pad of Wisconsin." It catches all the human rubbish. *Streak. "He was going like a streak of grease." *Strong back. "Farming calls for a strong back and a weak mind." Sweating like a butcher. Maine: "Sweating like a steer (or horse)." Perspire heavily. *Tail. "To have the world by the tail with a downhill start." To be in control. *Thick as hair on a dog's back. Thick lips. "To go around with thick lips." Dejected. *Three men and a horse. A job demanding great strength. Town. "Just like in town." Things going smoothly and well. Two friends. "Going on his two friends." Walking. Maine: "Shank's mares." Two hands while learning. Said of a learning carpenter if he grips his hammer with two hands. Ugly. "He's so ugly the Devil doesn't want him." That is, he won't die. Ugly. "He looks as if he'd been beaten with an ugly stick." Unattractive.

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MITCHELL: Farm Talkfrom Marathon County *Up. "No way to go but up." Standard comment after the ground floor has been completed on a new house. *Useless. "As useless as teats on a boar hog." Vas a wagon. What a car. Walk. "Walk like a side rake." Walk crookedly.. *Waste not, want not. *White around the gills. Pale, as when frightened or sick. *Woodbox. "In the woodbox." Sick. In Maine: "Sick abed in the woodbox." Sometimes added: "And soaking your feet in a basket of chips."

Part III: Omens, Beliefs, and Folk Medicine Most of this material was presented in a humorous context. In a few cases, it was pointed out that some people still believed or practiced the custom. An asterisk (*) will indicate that a few people still show a degree of faith in the validity of the statement. Double asterisks (* *) designate beliefs common to both Maine and Wisconsin. **Animal fur. When a coon's (or squirrel's) fur is thick, it will be a cold winter. **Arthritis. A copper wire around one wrist and the opposite ankle helps. It establishes a current. **Beavers. If a beaver's feed pile is large, it will be a long, hard winter. Blessing. If you eat without asking the blessing, you will have the heartburn. Blessing. If there are less than five things on the table, you don't have to ask the blessing. *Bloat. A piece of wood tied cross-ways in a cow's mouth will make her chew on the stick and expel gas from her stomach. Burnt toast. It will give a person a good singing voice. *Calves. Calves will choke if allowed to drink from a pail sitting on the floor. It should be held up. **Cards. Playing cards are associated with the Devil. Carrots. Eating carrots causes curly hair. Maine: Causes good eyesight. *Castration. Bulls should be castrated during the full moon, or they might bleed to death. Cat. Cat washing herself with her leg in the air means guests are coming. **Cats. Cats will steal a baby's breath, causing it to choke. *Chickens. If their bones are red., it will be an easy winter. White bones, a hard winter. Maine: A lot of gristle on the tip of the breastbone means a rainy season. *Colored cows. The golden color of Guernsey milk is related to the red in their hair and hide. Comet. Halley's Comet was believed to be a sign the world was going to come to an end. Concrete. Wash your hands before the job is done and the concrete will crack.

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*Cow cleanings. If a cow eats her cleanings, she will choke. (Cows will eat the afterbirth if not prevented from doing so.) **Cuds. If a cow loses her cud, she will become ill. Cure: get her another one from another cow. Maine: make her one. Cricket. To step on a cricket brings rain. Main~: To step on a spider causes rain. **Dandelions. If you blow away all the fluffy seeds from a dandelion blossom in one breath and make a wish, it will be granted. Deer. Deer coming out of the woods during the day means rain is on the way. **Dogs. Dogs eating grass, it's going to rain. *Dogs. Dogs (and cats) eat grass to make them vomit and so clean out their stomachs. Easter Water. A bucket filled before daylight on Easter morning can be kept all year and won't become stagnant. Wash in it any time during the year and it will make you healthy. *Electricity. The current will seep from high voltage lines and harm people and animals who pass below. **Fire. Play in fire, wet the bed. **Fish. Fish is brain food. It'll make you smart. Gophers. Striped gophers can dodge a .22 bullet. **Heifers. Heifers born in company with a bull can't have calves. Last Days of a Month. The last three days predict the weather for the first fifteen days of the next month. Rain on the 29th, rain on the first to the fifth; sunny on the 30th, sunny on the sixth to the tenth; cold on the 31st, cold from the 11th to the 15th. Milk fever. Can be treated by pumping air into the cow's udders. Oak leaves. When they are the size of a squirrel's foot, it's time to plant corn. Maine: When poplar leaves are the size of a mouse's ear, it's time to plant potatoes. Pepper. Eating pepper makes hair grow on your chest. Maine: Molasses will make hair grow on your chest. **Porcupines. It's against the law to kill them, for they are the only animal a lost man can get without a gun. Potatoes. Should not be planted until the wild plum trees blossom. **Rabbits. Should not be eaten. They cause a disease. Red sky. "Red sky on Friday night, rain before Monday." **Rooster eggs. Tiny eggs with no yolks are rooster eggs. **Smoke. If smoke curls to the ground, it will rain. **Snakes. Kill a snake but it won't die until sundown. Snakes. Dead snakes call other snakes. **Snakes. A mother snake will swallow her young in time of danger. *Spleens. Red pig spleens predict a warm winter; long spleens mean a long winter; short thick spleens short winter. **Stutter. Tickle a baby's feet and he'll become a stutterer. **Styes. "Pee in the ditch, get a stye in your eye." Maine: "Pee in the middle of the road get a stye in your eye."

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MITCHELL: Farm Talk/rom Marathon County Sunday. Don't whistle on Sunday. It will call the Devil. Sunday. Whittle on Sunday and chips will bum in the palm of your hand in hell. Sunday. A general prohibition on unnecessary activities including sewing and knitting. In Maine: "Come the Day of Judgment, every stitch sewn on Sunday will have to be picked out with your nose." Tamarack. When the tamarack needles turn brown, cold weather is coming. Throat. For a sore throat use lard or skunk oil. Throat. For a sore throat, rub on Vicks and then wrap a dirty woolen sock around your neck. Toothache. Heat a piece of haywire and jam it into the cavity. **Toothache. Pack the cavity with ground cloves. Turtles. Turtles will not die until sundown. See Snake. Warts. You can catch warts from milking cows that have warts. **To get rid of warts, pull them out by the roots. Tie a knot around a wart, bury the knotted string in the basement. When the string rots, the wart will disappear. Bury it on the full moon. Sell the wart to somebody for a nickel. **To cure a wart, touch it with the juice from milkweed or dandelion. **Water witching. Ground water occurs in veins and some people have the gift of finding it by using a forked stick, a switch, or wire. Maine: a forked stick. Water witching. This power is a gift from God. But for it to work people must have faith in it. **Wedding ring. It is bad luck for your marriage to take your wedding ring off. **Worms. If you eat too much sweet stuff, you'll have worms.

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11

Application to Live in Northern Wisconsin (North of Highway 29) Anonymous

Highway 29 runs from east to west, linking Green Bay, Wausau, the Chippewa Falls/Eau Claire area, Menomonie, and River Falls, while neatly separating Wisconsin's northern region from the south. Above this line lakes, woods, and log trucks proliferate. It's the home of self-described "jackpine savages," and the place where I grew up. In 1960 the hometown Rice lake Warriors basketball team made it to the state tournament in Madison. That was before the present system of four divisions based on relative population, and schools competed with one another irrespective of size. Eau Claire Memorial's "Old Abes" were the perennial "up north" entry, so little-known Rice lake was greeted by downstate papers and rival players as a collection of rubes, hicks, and honyocks (immigrant German or Slavic farmers). Perhaps intimidated, Rice lake was quickly eliminated. But the team was back in the tournament the next year. My dad, Warren leary, publisher of the Rice Lake Chronofype, smarted over negative stereotypes. Rather than tout sophistication (and risk more ridicule), he began to write about Rice lake's team as the boys from 'Woodpecker Point"-a local nickname for the city's rustic extreme west side where his pals Bob and Dix Sandburg had lived in the 1930s. By swapping Rice lake for Woodpecker Point, an in-your-face boondocks byword, my dad pointed out, as much with a grin as a sneer, ''Yeah, we're from up in the woods, what's it to ya?" Rice lake went on to trounce a pair of downstate teams before losing in the Rnals to Milwaukee lincoln in overtime on, of course, a disputed, last-second basket. In the aftermath, ardent fans like Alphonse lied I could be seen around town garbed in jackets outfitted with Wisconsin maps across their backs. Woodpecker Point appeared alongside a star in the northwestern quadrant normally occupied by Rice lake. The "Application to live in Northern Wisconsin" plays similarly with both insiders' and outsiders' stereotypes of the people living above Highway 29. The collective image of an insular, inbred, male-dominated, outdoorsy, gearhead culture of sex-crazed, drunken Packer fans is wildly exaggerated, yet built around a core of truth. "Up north" natives recognize the absurdity of confusing image with reality, but many delight in the image-partly because they enjoy poking fun at themselves, partly because it allows them on occasion to play the wise fool, to act the country bumpkin when patronized by tourists and government officials who assume the role of "Arkansas travelers." Not surprisingly, the up north stereotype shares much with popular images of others living in such rustic American margins as the Ozarks and the southern Appalachians. Indeed, an "Application to Be a Hillbilly" precedes this northern Wisconsin version, as indicated by the residual presence of southern "redneck" elements: the Confederate Rag, "Dixie," Elvis veneration, incest, Jack Daniels, and references to parents as Mamma and Daddy. And just as southern musicians have long made comic use of the hillbilly persona, so too do up north musicians-most notably Da Yoopers from the old Wisconsin Territory in Ishpeming, Michigan, and Bananas at large, whose "Da Turdy Point Buck" situates the quintessential up north rustic in a deer camp.

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ANONYMOUS: Application to Live in Northern Wisconsin

11.1. In the early 1990s Larry Peterson and Rob Mitchell drew some local criticism when they launched Spooner's "Jackpine Savage Days." For Peterson, however, the festival was both a tongue-in-cheeky recognition of "north woods" stereotypes and a means to make light of them. Logo courtesy of Spooner Area Chamber of Commerce.

The application's form and medium merit final comments. Nowadays even backwoods dwellers are confronted with a flurry of forms and a continuous barrage of electronic communiques. Hence this phony application parodies the questionnaires we are too often forced to RII out, and its transmission is not by word-of-mouth, but via the copier, the fax machine, and the Internet. Reprinted from the anonymous document circulating on the Internet, March 17, 1995.

NAME: _ NICKNAME: CB HANDLE: _ NECK SHADE: __ Light Red __ Bright Red __ Dark Red NUMBER OF TEETH EXPOSED IN FULL GRIN: Upper: _ Lower:_ LENGTH OF RIGHT LEG: LENGTH OF LEFT LEG: _ DADDY (if unknown list three suspects): _ MAMMA: CAN YOU BEAT YOUR WIFE AT ARM WRESTLING: ARE YOU MARRIED TO ANY OF THE FOLLOWING: __ Sister __ Cousin __ Cousin's sister __ Sister's cousin

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Part One. Terms and Talk

DATE/LOCATION OF YOUR LAST SIGHTING OF ELVIS: _ MOBILE HOME COLOR: __ Two-tone, brown and white __ Two-tone, pink and white __ Faded green __ Baby-shit yellow __ Don't remember what it was before it all peeled off MAKE AND MODEL OF PICKUP TRUCK: _ TIRE SIZE: _ NUMBER OF BEER CANS ON FLOOR OF PICKUP: _ _ TRUCK EQUIPPED WITH: __ Air horn __ Gun rack __ Mud flaps __ Camper top __ American flag __ 4-Wheel drive __ 8-track _CB __ Rust - - Fuzzbuster __ Roll bar __ Mud tires __ Load of wood __ Dents __ Confederate flag __ Deer repelling whistles __ Deer poaching spotlights - - Neon colored wiper arms, license plate frames, radio antenna, and netting across back of truck box - _ Empty Coke bottle for collecting tobacco juice whenever it's too cold to open a window to spit __ Playboy emblem air freshener hanging from rear view mirror __ Pine tree air freshener hanging from rear view mirror __ Woman's garter hanging from rear view mirror __ Horn that plays 26 different tunes, including "Dixie" BUMPER STICKERS: __ Honk If You're Horny __ Fuck 'em Bucky! - - Almost Heaven-Hayward __ Where da Hell's Rhinelander? __ Ducks Unlimited __ DNR-Damn Near Russia __ I'm the NRA __ Flush Illinois - _ Tommy Bartlett Water Show __ Eat Cheese or Die __ Nuke the Gay Whales for Jesus __ Coke is It! __ Women-You Can't Live With 'em, and You Can't Shoot 'em __ The Pack is Back DO YOU OWN ANY SHOES, not counting boots? _ PRIMARY SOURCE OF INCOME: - - Welfare __ Burglary __ The J-word __ Unemployment compensation __ Drug sales __ Poaching __ Workman's compensation __ Recycling your empty beer cans FAVORITE PANTS: __ Bib overalls __ Polyester, with snags FAVORITE MUSIC: __ Country __ Western __ Country Western __ Anything played on an accordion __ Anything a person sings through their nose THINGS IN YOUR FRONT YARD: __ Various kitchen appliances __ Assorted vehicles on blocks __ Piles of split firewood __ Dismantled snowmobiles - - Bathtub grotto __ Horseshoes mounds - - Dog run-with all the grass worn down to rock hard dirt

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ANONYMOUS: Application to Live in Northern Wisconsin

__ Deer hanging from tree limb-in season __ Deer hanging from tree limb-out of season __ Wood cut-out of bent over old lady FAVORITE MEAL: __ Anything fried in lard __ Brats and Pabst Blue Ribbon __ Pickled pig's feet __ Venison and Pabst Blue Ribbon __ Pickled eggs __ Cheese curds and Pabst Blue Ribbon __ Beef jerky __ Twinkies and Pabst Blue Ribbon __ Green bean, mushroom soup, and tater tots Casserole FAVORITE RECREATION: __ Deer huntin' __ Deer huntin' while drinkin' __ Snowmobilin' __ Snowmobilin' while drinkin' __ Fishin' with live bait __ Fishin' with live bait while drinkin' __ Watchin' Green Acres reruns __ Watchin' Green Acres reruns while __ Drillin' the old lady drinkin' __ Cruisin' the streets for wimmin' and tryin' to entice 'em into my truck by makin' crude animal noises and suggestive tongue gestures FAVORITE WEAPON: __ .357 magnum __ .30-06 __ Morning breath __ Ice auger __ Chain saw __ Tire iron __ Forehead __ Wife FAVORITE ODOR: __ Wet dog __ Diesel fuel __ Pabst Blue Ribbon __ Minnow bucket __ Frying spam __ Old canvas __ Hoppe's No.9 Powder Solvent __ The girl across the road __ Any paper mill on a hot August day __ Any scent emanating from a body FAVORITE CAP EMBLEM: __ Budweiser __ Bearwiz Beer __ Stihl _Old Fart __ Point Beer __ Old Style __ John Deere _4X4 __ Pabst Beer __ Jack Daniels __ Skoal __ Remington __ Kill 'em all and let God sort 'em out FAVORITE READING MATERIAL: __ Fishing Facts __ American Rifleman __ Soldier of Fortune __ Enquirer __ TV Guide __ Beer bottle labels __ Polka Digest __ Welfare Application __ Watchtower __ Hustler (just for the articles) __ Sports Illustrated (swimsuit edition only) FAVORITE TAVERN NAME: __ Dew Drop Inn __ Whygoby Inn __ County Line Tavern __ Lake (insert name of lake) Tavern __ (Name) and (Name)'s Bar __ Pine (view, wood, etc.) Tavern __ Open __ Club (insert highway number) FAVORITE WAY TO GREET SOMEONE: __ Ya, hey. __ Good mornin' der!

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- _ Dem Packers is playin' like a buncha old women. - _ Dem Brewers is playin' like a buncha old women. __ Dem Badgers is playin' like a buncha old women. __ Dem Bucks is playin' like a buncha old women. - - Dey should just let dem Indians spear dose idiots at da DNR! - - Dey should take dat whole buncha dem Madison liberals and queers and line 'em up and shoot 'em! - _ Wanna see da new tatto I got da odder day? FAVORITE VEHICLE: __ 1967 Ford Galaxy __ International Scout - - Anything you can take the bumpers off and jack the body up four feet above road level FARTHEST AWAY MEMORABLE EVENT YOU'VE EVER AITENDED: - _ Minocqua Moose Call Madness Competition __ Antigo Tater Trot Carnival __ Gleason Grouse Mating Gala __ Ringle Roundhouse Right Beer Tent Brawl __ Herbster Jaycees Seagull Doo-Doo Days __ Lake Tomahawk Outboard Motor Repairs Finals - - Ogema Crew Cut Championships - _ Spread Eagle Proctologist Probe For Gold Weekend - - Chetek Carp Queen Beauty Contest and Carp Cuisine Cookoff - - Eagle River Shout-Off For The Deal (held the week after the annual Snowmobile Derby) __ Phelps Early Spring Indian Walleye Spearing Festival - - Parrish Cafe Grease Lover's Jamboree and Porta-Potty Exhibit - _ Hamburg Monthly Deer Poach and Warden Shoot __ Glidden Annual Chipmunk Roundup and Polka Fest FAVORITE SONG OF ALL TIME: __ Lucille - _ Theme from Beverly Hillbillies __ Theme from Green Acres - - Red Neck, White Sox, and Blue Ribbon Beer - - She Got The Gold Mine and I Got The Shaft - - Take This Job and Shove It - _ Anything lip-synched by the stripper at the Boom Bay Bar ~urX(asignaturewilldo):~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

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PART TWO

Storytelling

12

Turtle Trying to Get Credit (A Tale) Paul Radin

The traditions of Wisconsin's Winnebago (or, as they are now known, Ho-Chunk) people tell them they have always been here. Certainly they occupied villages throughout southern Wisconsinparticularly along the Black, Fox, Rock, and Wisconsin River valleys-at the time of European contact. In the nineteenth century, the United States government forced the Winnebago to move successively to reservations in Minnesota, South Dakota, and Nebraska. Many people, however, resisted forced relocation and hid out in Wisconsin, while others relocated to western reservations, only to return later. Eventually the Wisconsin Winnebago won federal recognition. Nowadays they have no central reservation, but are variously settled around such communities as Baraboo, Black River Falls, La Crosse, Neillsville, Tomah, Wisconsin Dells, Wisconsin Rapids, and Wittenburg. Perhaps because of the hardships endured, Wisconsin's Ho-Chunk people have sustained their cultural traditions to a high degree. In the early 1990s they established the Hocak Wazijaci Language and Culture Program, under the leadership of Kenneth Funmaker, Sr., primarily to maintain the language, but also to accumulate, archive, and conserve documentary materials on the Ho-Chunk people-including materials produced by Paul Radin. A pioneering anthropologist, Paul Radin (1883-1959) was a student of Franz Boas at Columbia University before devoting much of his professional life to Winnebago culture. His many publications include three classic works: The Autobiography of a Winnebago Indian (Berkeley: University of California Press, Publications in American Archeology and Ethnology, vol. 16, no. 7, 1920); The Winnebago Tribe (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution, Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology, vol. 37, 1923); and The Trickster: A Study in American Indian Mythology (New York: Philosophical Library, 1956). The story offered here originally appeared with three others as appendices to Radin's "Literary Aspects of Winnebago Mythology." Radin, however, conducted most of his fieldwork with HoChunk converts to the Native American Church. Because their new religion no longer bound them to keeping sacred stories secret, they departed radically from traditional practices by offering them to an outsider. Hence I am unwilling to reproduce myths or waika (literally "what is old"). Such stories belong to their respective clans and medicine lodges, Ho-Chunk institutions that are very much intact. Rather, I offer ''Turrle Trying to Get Credit," a humorous post-contact story about a popular trickster figure. As Paul Radin states: It is palpably a modern production. It is in brief the story of a man with a bad reputation who tries to get credit from a merchant in order to buy food for his family. After he has been rebuffed a number of times, a kindhearted merchant takes pity on him because of the poverty of his family. In return he goes hunting and returns with canoes full of the finest furs for his benefactor. This hero, however, is Trickster, and all the characteristics that are associated with him in the Trickster cycle are found here. He is untrustworthy, boastful and a gambler. As in the cycle, so here also there are humorous touches. Trickster is of course a hero of "myth." Nevertheless the Winnebago follow a commonsense classification and call this story a "tale."

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Just as contemporary Qjibwe storytellers continue to involve the mythological trickster Wenabozho in new tales, Radin's Ho-Chunk "raconteur-authors use the figures of the older mythology in the modern tales/' involving in this instance Frenchmen, guns, liquor, and the fur trade. Reprinted by permission of the American Folklore Society from "literary Aspects of Winnebago Mythology'" Journal of American Folklore 39: 151 (1926): 18-52. Not for further reproduction.

There was a village in which a chief lived. Turtle lived there too. The village was situated near a large river. One day they said to each other, "Look, the traders are coming." They were the Frenchmen. Finally the traders landed and settled in houses along the edge of the water down the stream. A large number of Indians immediately surrounded these houses. They were dressed in their best, with white and black wampums around their necks. Many of the women also wore earrings. The men were painted in various colors. Everyone went there except Turtle. One day he said, "Younger brothers, the Indians are getting credit and we also ought to be able to get some. However, I thought it would be better to wait till all the others are gone. They need clothing, and we do not need such things the others are able to get credit, I shall surely be able to do the same because all the traders are my friends." Thus he spoke to his younger brothers. Beside Turtle there were present the Soft-Shelled Turtle, Keka, and the Little Red Turtle. All these latter were unmarried. The Turtle himself, however, had a wife. He lived in a long lodge with two fireplaces. When he was ready to go he said, "Now then it is about time for us to go and get credit, for even these womanly fellows are getting it. Now I am going to talk to my friends." When they got to the first trader, Turtle said, "This is my intimate friend, but let us go a little farther." When he came to another trader, he said the same thing, and thus they went from trader to trader until they came to the last man. There Turtle stopped and said, "Here we shall enter, for this man is a friend of mine." As soon as they had entered the trader came up to him and shook hands with him. "SecondBorn (Soft-Shell Turtle), you try to get credit first." Then he asked the trader (for credit) but he was unsuccessful and so were the others. "Turtle cannot do it," said the trader, "I was forbidden to do it when I started out. They told me that you are not to be trusted because you never repay what you borrow. They told me that you are lazy, that you don't even try to go out hunting and that you gamble and lie with women and go on the warpath. Because you always do these things, I am forbidden to give you any credit. If you were to cheat me it would go hard with me because this is all the money I have. I cannot give you any credit. The other people have lots of money and perhaps they might help you out." Then they went away and came to the trader nearest to this one. Turtle had said that this one never refused him but when the Second-Born went up to him and asked him for credit he refused just as the other one had done. All four turtles pleaded with him a long time but he absolutely refused. "Turtle," said this trader, "we are

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12.1. Ho-Chunk singers with bone whistle and hand drum, Wisconsin Dells, 1946. State Historical Society of Wisconsin, WHi (575)28.

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not going to buy any scalps." So again they failed. In like manner Turtle went to all the traders but they all refused. "Younger brothers, you may all go home to your sisters-in-law. I will return later as I want to finish some interpreting for which I was engaged, and besides, I want to have a good long talk with the traders." So they all went home and he remained behind. There he stayed four days and nights without anything to eat. There were some young men drinking but they always avoided him because they said that he would arrest them. All that was left for Turtle to do was to sleep at night near the camp fires of the traders. Turtle went around, hungry, dusty, his lips parched. The trader to whom he had gone first, seeing him in this plight took pity on him and called him to his store and said, "Turtle, come here." Then he gave him some crackers, a can of fish and a piece of cheese. "Turtle, when I looked at you this morning I took pity on you and I am going to give you a little credit and if you don't pay me I am willing to stand the consequences. This store is mine anyway. I know that giving you credit will be the same as throwing money away because you are noted for your worthlessness. That is the reason I was told to refuse you any credit. As soon as you get through eating, you may go after your wife and brothers and bring them here." As soon as Turtle had finished eating, he went after his wife and his brothers. "Now then I have come after you. We are going to get credit. Those womanly fellows were the ones that had forbidden the traders to give me any credit, but now I have fixed them up. They told things that were not true about me, but that too I have fixed up. Now, they are all after me so that I might ask them for credit, but I dislike them so that we will go clear to the end of the road where we went the first time." When they got to the end of the road Turtle said, "Second-Born, you may go in first and get what you want." So he went in and bought the following things: a blanket and some yellow-edged broadcloth for leggings; annlets and small buckles for his front hair braids; a pair of boots that reached up to his knees so that he could wear them when he went out wading to set traps or when he went hunting; some steel traps, and a gun. All these things he bought. Then Turtle told the Third-Born to go in and get what he wanted and he bought the same things as the first one. As soon as he was through, Turtle sent the Fourth-Born into the store. He bought the same things that his two elder brothers had bought with the exception that he took a short gun instead of a long one. "Aha!" said Turtle when he saw his youngest brother coming out of the store with a short gun, "I always said that the youngest took most after me. All the others have bought guns entirely too long. With the gun you have bought, however you can sit in a pit and load and thus you can fight." "Say, Turtle [the trader said], there you are at it again. That is why people speak so badly of you. You know that your brothers are not getting these guns for the warpath. But I knew that you were not a person to be trusted and I knew that everything I trusted you with meant an absolute loss to me." By this time all Turtle's younger brothers had finished their trading. Then Turtle said to his wife, "Old woman, you may go in now and get whatever you think neces-

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RADIN: Turtle Trying to Get Credit sary, and after you have finished I will go in and get what I need." So the woman went in and bought kettles, dishes, knives and some shot and powder. Then Turtle went in and got a small handaxe, four quarts of whiskey, etc. When he was all finished he told the trader that he was through and started home. When he got home, he immediately began to gamble and continued .it for many days. It was the fall of the year and some people had already left the village. Soon, others went and before long only a very few were left. With these few he used to gamble. He lost everything, even the things that his younger brothers had bought for themselves. Soon everyone was gone and they remained there alone. Then Turtle's younger brothers said, "I wonder why our elder brother is doing this. He ought to be out hustling for himself. I suppose he is going to stay here permanently. It is on account of these actions that the trader said those ugly things about him." The next morning the Second-Born said, "Older brother, all the people have moved to the best hunting places. Why are we still here? Thus we were asking one another. So we decided that we should go somewhere." Thus spoke the Soft-Shelled Turtle. "Oh my younger brother, you are right. That is what we also said last night. Your sister-in-law and I, long ago, when we were first married, hunted in a place where there were many animals with furs. There we ought to go, we said. However we were afraid that the other people might follow us, so we stayed here purposely so that we might go alone after the rest had left. It is not good to hunt with other people because they always rush forward in order to get ahead of you. So it is best to hunt alone and that is why I am doing this," Turtle said. "If they followed us and prevented us from hunting in the way we like best we would not be able to kill anything. So tomorrow we shall move," he said. In the meantime the traders were telling Turtle's creditor that Turtle was still around. "You see," they said to him, "what Turtle is doing and that is why we were told not to give him any credit. All the things with which you trusted him he lost shortly after in gambling, as well as the things belonging to his younger brothers." Thus they spoke. "I don't care. They were all my things and I did it because I took pity on him. I did it without expecting anything back." Thus spoke the trader. The Turtle moved very early the next morning and the Soft-shelled Turtle sat at the head of the canoe while Keka sat behind at the rudder. As son as they had started Turtle said, "Younger brother, Second-Born, as soon as we get to the place I will give you warning because it is at a point where the creek empties into this water and is not noticeable. We will have to watch very closely for it is generally obstructed by young willows. As soon as one gets up the creek as far as that, the water becomes very deep. However up a little ways farther it becomes a regular creek. When your sister-in-law and I first got married I did my hunting here, and there used to be many furred animals, bear and deer. The creek was full of game in those days and the game must be even more abundant now for that was a long time ago. If they have been breeding ever since, there must be very many animals now." Thus he spoke. The woman said the same thing. "Oh, when we were very young, your older brother hunted here. At that time he was not much more than a boy." Then the Turtle spoke, "Now then, you must watch very closely as the place must be pretty near here. It is

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impossible to find it sometimes because often there are no signs of a creek. That is why they never hunt· here. The water comes into it in a slightly different manner. That is the only way one can tell whether one has reached it." Then the Soft-Shelled Turtle said, "Well, older brother, here is just such a place as you have described. Here the water seems to come in a sort of rushing way." This must be it, younger brother. Do not break any willows for if we are discovered the animals will be scared away from us in the hurry of other people to get as many animals as they can." They cleared away the willows carefully as they went through and they bent them back after they had passed. In this way there was no trace that anyone had passed through. After they had gone up stream a little way, sure enough the water became deeper. "Older brother, here the water is deeper," said the Soft-Shelled Turtle. "Yes, I told you that it used to be that way. It will get wider still as we go farther on and finally it will become a chain of lakes. When we reach that place we will strike our camp. In olden times it was a good camping place." Just as he had said, the creek began to get wider and soon they saw a beaver feeding on the shore. There were also otters there. "Older brother, I am going to shoot one." Turtle, however, forbade him. "Don't do it, you will make them wild. Just leave them alone." The game became more plentiful as they went along and the stream of water became wider. It was now evening. "Second-Born", said Turtle, "Shoot one of the larger ones so that we may eat it when we arrive. This shooting will not make them wild, especially if you draw your gun back immediately, for this will muffle the report. That is what I used to do when I wished to kill secretly." So the Second-Born shot one of the animals and, sure enough, the report of the gun was not very loud. Then they put the animal into the canoe, and the Turtle said, "Second-Born, get out and walk. After a while you will come to the timber-wood. Go towards it. That is where we used to live. It is a grove of red-oak, and around the edge there used to be a growth of brush. Those you may use as frames for your furs. Have a fire ready." At that place, therefore, he went ashore and they went on without him. Finally they heard the report of his gun. "Ah, he must have done that to a third-born (bear)," said the Turtle. Finally they arrived at the place Turtle meant; they got out and walked. It was just as he had said. The timber-wood was very thick and around the edge there was some brush. When they got to this place they found the Soft-Shelled Turtle building a fire already. He had a bear lying near him. Then immediately they built a lodge and the young men got ready to hunt. Turtle then said to them, "Younger brothers, when the animals become wild it is impossible to kill many of them, so don't do it now. Besides the furs are not good yet. Come, help me camp so that your sister-in-law may make some soup for you." So then they all helped in the making of the lodge. They wanted to go hunting right away but he would not let them. They therefore attended to the animals-the beavers and bears that they had already killed. When they had finished their lodge, Turtle said, "My younger brothers, tomorrow morning we will get the materials for the frames on which we are to place the furs we obtain; go hunt, therefore, for the necessary wood." After a while he continued and said, "Do not hunt (game) right away for the animals are likely to get wild

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RADIN: Turtle Trying to Get Credit if you hunt them too soon. Let us therefore settle down here for a while and not hunt until they get used to us, and then we will be able to kill them in great numbers. It is just because the people kill them too soon that I dislike to go hunting with them." Thus he spoke. In the morning they cut the frames for the furs, but the younger brothers said to one another, "We are tired of making these frames. Why don't we go out hunting? What is the sense of cutting these frames if we don't kill any game?" Then Turtle said to them, "My younger brothers, you don't know anything about hunting if you are so desirous of hunting right away. Remember also, before letting your frames freeze, that you must dry them, because that always makes the furs look better and permits the frames to be used over and over again. If the frames are not dried before they are allowed to get frozen they become very brittle." Turtle's younger brothers were very tired of making frames, however, and wanted to go hunting immediately. Then Turtle spoke to them again and said, "My younger brothers, go out and get what we call a carry-all. This we generally make either of bark or simply of a piece of wood, and in that we can afterwards carry the furs which will be too heavy to carry on our backs." So they made a carry-all for themselves. Thus they lived, only killing animals for food when their supply was exhausted. Turtle spoke to them again, "Younger brothers, as soon as it gets cold, let us make some racks for our furs. Otherwise the mice will gnaw holes in them." So they made some racks, intending to make more as soon as these were loaded with furs. All winter they waited for the animals to get used to them and only shot animals when they needed them for food. The snow was now very deep and it was cold and the waters were all frozen hard. "Well," said Turtle, "my younger brothers, let us begin to hunt. When the weather is like this, the animals don't pay much attention to themselves." The younger brothers dreaded to go out at that season but he told them to get their carry-aIls ready and start with him. The first thing they came across was a beaver house. Turtle cut this open and went in and killed all the beavers who were there. Then he killed as many otters as he came across. It was very easy for there was no place to which they could run. His younger brothers were using their carry-alls to good purpose and brought home many animals. It was a very high pile of furs that they were able to stack up when they came home. At night Turtle and his wife would attend to the dressing of the skins. In the morning, when the young men were up, they sawall the furs hanging on the racks. In this manner they continued, day after day, until their material for frames was exhausted. "Do you now see why I wanted you to make frames? But you paid no attention to me and got tired too soon. Now we shall have to hunt and get material for our frames at the same time. This is a nuisance." He tried to use the sticks that had been used before but they were all frozen and brittle, as the young men had not permitted them to dry first. However he found a few that had been dried and these he could use again. Then the furs were tied in bundles and placed on the racks and before long the racks were all covered. Finally they had gone over the entire hunting ground. The racks were overloaded so they roasted as much meat as they could. The young men continued hunting and were very successful. They killed many badgers and coyotes and skinned them and placed the furs on frames. It was now spring and most of the

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people had returned to the village. Turtle, however, was nowhere to be seen. Everyone knew of everybody else's where abouts; but of Turtle they knew nothing. "He must be killed," they said. As they were thus hunting, Turtle said to his wife one day, "Old woman, I am going over to the village to see the people, for they must all be home by this time, and I will try to borrow my friend's boat if I can. Pack the worst furs for me." So they packed the coyote and badger skins for him and he started out. He got to the village at night. "Ho! ho! my friend, I have come back," he shouted. "Ah, it is good," said his friend, "for they were saying that you had been killed." Then the trader gave him some food. When Turtle had finished his meal, he said to the trader, "My friend, I have brought over a few furs for you. They are just outside your door." He went out, and sure enough there he found some furs. He thanked Turtle. "Really, my friend, it is good," he said. "I did not expect this, for I just wanted to get rid of the things and so I let you have them on credit. Indeed, it is good." "My friend, I have only brought you the poorest furs I had. I have been hunting for you all winter and I will bring you the others if you will let me have your boat. I will start early tomorrow morning and fetch you the other furs." "It is good, but I will send my servants along with you so you need not work. Now then, my friend, you must be tired, here therefore is something for you to drink." Then he gave him four quarts of whiskey. All night Turtle drank and in the morning when the trader got up he gave him some more. Then he sent his servants along with many presents so that if Turtle was really telling the truth they could give them to him. Two servants went along and early in the morning they started. The Turtle did not even have to do the rowing but instead drank all the time. When they got to the creek he told them it was over yonder, "The road will be full of broken sticks," he told them. After a while they got out of the boat and walked on foot. Turtle had to be led by the two servants because he was too drunk to walk. When they got there, the food was just cooking and the servants ate with the others. Then the servants carried the furs to the boat on long sticks that they had prepared. They loaded on the boat all the furs that Turtle and his companions had obtained. Four days it took them to carry the furs to the boat, so many were piled up. Then when they were ready to start home, they put new clothes on Turtle; a black coat, what they called a king's coat, one with a red breast. Then they put a large quantity of wampum, and four silver medals around his neck. They decorated him with armlets, bracelets and yarn-belts which they tied around his head. Finally they gave him four quarts of whiskey, and in this manner they came back. They wouldn't let him do the slightest work and they treated him like a king. About noon the boat appeared some distance from the village. "Well," said the Indians, "it must be some trader's boat." But when they could see the occupants they recognized Turtle. "Why, Turtle is in the boat," they said. He had the king's clothes on and he was drunk and was being held up by the servants. "Ho! ho! it is Turtle. He has brought back very many furs," the Indians said and stood on the beach waiting for him. "Look, he has done a good season's work." At the house of his friend he brought his boat to the shore. The trader was very much surprised. Then the other traders said, "Turtle, let us buy some of the furs from you. "They do

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RADIN: Turtle Trying to Get Credit not belong to me. They belong to my friend." "Turtle, they are worth much more than all the stores here. Indeed they are worth a great deal more. Your friend hasn't got anything. He can't buy all those things." "Nevertheless, I will not sell any of them to any of you because they belong to him, for it was for him that I hunted. I tried to get credit from you but you would not give me any, and you would not trust me. This man was the only one who would give me credit, so therefore I determined to go out hunting for him and get him furs. They belong to him." He refused to talk to them any more. "My friend," said the trader to Turtle, "this entire store I give to you and I will go to my home in the morning as the boat is already loaded. The servants will watch the boat during the night as someone might want to steal something. All the whiskey in the store belongs to you too." The next morning the trader went home and Turtle remained in possession of the store.

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13

Oiibwe Stories from Northern Wisconsin

The most populous of Wisconsin's native peoples, the Ojibwe (or Chippewa) occupy six reservations in the northern part of the state: Bad River, lac Courte Oreilles, lac du Flambeau, Mole lake, Red Cliff, and St. Croix. At the time of European contact, they were situated near Sault Sainte Marie, at the western edge of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, and moved west with the fur trade. Henry Rowe Schoolcraft, an Indian agent, was the first to report on Ojibwe storytelling traditions in 1839. Since then Ojibwe traditional tales have been documented by many anthropologists, folklorists, and interested parties. The following sketches of two storytellers and their repertoires illustrate the ongoing dynamic between continuity and change in contemporary Ojibwe oral tradition. Ancient mythological stories of the trickster and culture hero Wenabozho persist, as do local legends based upon longstanding beliefs. Yet these stories have been updated in accordance with their tellers' experiences. And they are likewise matched by European folktales and Christian devil legends, albeit made over as Ojibwe stories set in trading posts, lumber camps, and dance halls. I interviewed Dee Bainbridge in July 1996 in connection with fieldwork for Wisconsin's 1998 sesquicentennial observance. Alissa Matlack interviewed Keith Wilmer in December 1995, as preparation for writing a paper for my course on the folktale at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. The "motifs" mentioned herein constitute the smallest elements of traditional tales that persist in tradition, and the numbers attached to them derive from the classificatory system of the comparative folklorist Stith Thompson (Motif-Index of Folk Literature [Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1955-1958], six volumes).

Dee Bainbridge, Oiibwe Storyteller Commentary, Transcriptions, and Annotations by James P. leary Delores "Dee" Bainbridge was born in 1931 on the Red Cliff Ojibwe Reservation north of Bayfield, Wisconsin. Her mother died when Dee was four and she was brought up by her grandparents, John and Ida Mary. John DePerry was the son of a "half-breed" French Ojibwe fur trader, Michel DePerry (a.k.a. DuPrez), and an Ojibwe mother. John DePerry was trilingual in English, French, and Ojibwe. He had worked in the woods as a lumber camp teamster in his younger days. Ida Mary DePerry (ca. 1885-1972) was an Ojibwe from the Lac Courte Oreilles Reservation area and the daughter of George Neviaush. As Dee recalled, her grandmother grew up living a traditional life: "If suckers were spawning they would go to that place and

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13.1. Dee Bainbridge telling stories in her Ashland home, 1996. Photo: James P. Leary.

harvest. Then for wild rice they'd go to another place and harvest. Then when the berries were ripe they'd go to the berry field. They were pretty nomadic in her earlier years." Arbitrarily named Ida George by the Bureau ofindian Affairs, with her father's "English" first name serving as her surname, she was known as Johnnyqwe when she first settled among the Red Cliff Ojibwe (i.e. "Johnny's woman" from the English name and the Ojibwe suffix qwe, indicating a woman's name). At the time, shortly after 1900, she understood very little English, although she came to speak the language gradually. Growing up in the 1930s and 1940s, Dee became fluent in both Ojibwe and English, while hearing a smattering of French. The family lived three miles from the village of Bayfield and eked out a subsistence existence with "no modern conveniences." They gardened, gathered berries, picked herring from the gill nets of commercial fishers, cut firewood, ran trap lines, set rabbit snares, "bobbed" for whitefish through the ice, caught speckled trout in streams, and sold home brew. The DePerry place was also one of the gathering places for house parties with square and step dancing to fiddle, accordion, and pump organ: All the people from around Red Cliff. They'd have it at my grandma's house one night, then maybe in a month at somebody else's house. Different houses. That's how they entertained themselves. Pretty much Indian people from the reservation.... And they would bring each something, like a can of milk or a cake. And that was the prizes they played for. It was kind of different ... A man by the name of Babineau, he was a good jigger. And Joe Wabidosh, he was a good jigger. And even some of the ladies were pretty good. A lady by the name of LaMoureaux, she was a very good jigger.

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Dee's grandfather and her Uncle Mike generally played the fiddle at these gatherings. The DePerry home was likewise a site for storytelling by Dee's uncles Mike DePerry, Fred DePerry, and John Soulier, by a comical fellow known as "Big Louis," and especially by Ida Mary DePerry. Dee's grandmother would seldom tell stories during the day, but in the evening She would bum tobacco. We had an old iron stove, kitchen stove. This was an offering to the spirits so she wouldn't offend anybody. Then she would burn cedar, which is supposed to take away all the evil spirits. The whole house would be like incense. She did that pretty regularly. They tell us now that we shouldn't talk about Wenabozho unless there's snow on the ground. Otherwise a big frog will jump on your bed and leave welts on your body. Well I said I've violated that, but if a frog jumps in my bed I might kiss him and see if he turns into a prince. But I don't remember that she ever said it was taboo. But I've read that several times since that you shouldn't tell stories in the summer. But some stories that don't pertain to Wenabozho I guess are okay.

While some of the stories swirling around the DePerry home were in English, Dee's grandmother told hers in Ojibwe. Dee absorbed some stories by simply listening, but others were acquired more formally. She recalled that her grandmother "would tell me a story, then ask me to repeat it. That's how I got started." Dee went through eight grades at the Catholic Mission School at Red Cliff, then attended Bayfield High School. She worked at various jobs, married, raised six children, and provided a home for her grandmother. In the Bainbridge home, Dee and Ida Mary DePerry relied on Ojibwe as a "secret language" when they didn't want the children to understand. Likewise Dee continued to enjoy talking and joking with elders in Ojibwe. In early 1973 she began a twenty-two-year career teaching the Ojibwe language, Indian history, and storytelling at Bayfield High School, where roughly 70 percent of the student body is Ojibwe. About the same time she began teaching Ojibwe at Ashland's Northland College. Beyond telling stories amidst other Ojibwes and within the context of her classes, Dee Bainbridge has performed for various community groups and organizations. She is equally comfortable telling stories in Ojibwe and in English. Her delivery is stately and sure, accompanied by occasional mimetic gestures, and reliant on subtle vocal shifts that convey character and mood. In the 1990s Dee Bainbridge has been recognized by the local Ojibwe, the Wisconsin Arts Board, and the National Endowment for the Arts for her storytelling. I first learned of Dee Bainbridge in the early 1980s when I was working on a National Endowment for the Arts (NEA) traditional music project at Northland College where she was teaching Ojibwe. Subsequently I heard of her storytelling from folklorist Richard March of the Wisconsin Arts Board, from Smithsonian Institution ethnomusicologist and seasonal Madeline Island resident Tom Vennum, and from Walt Bressette, a Red Cliff Ojibwe, Bayfield businessman, and political activist. In December 1992, while doing a grant review for the NEA Folk Arts Program, I was

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LEARY & MATLACK: Ojibwe Stories able to hear Bainbridge perform, along with Ojibwe storytellers Billy Blackwell from Grand Traverse, Minnesota, and Joe Migwanabe, originally from Manitoulin Island, Ontario, but then residing on the Hannahville Potawatomi Reservation near Escanaba, Michigan. The setting was an evening gathering of mostly Ojibwe high school students in a large wigwam adjacent to Marvin and Diane DeFoe's Bayfield home. Impressed by Dee Bainbridge's repertoire, traditional performance style, reserved yet friendly personality, and considerable experience as a teacher, I wanted in particular to record her stories in connection with field research undertaken in July 1996 in preparation for Wisconsin's 1998 sesquicentennial celebration. She was very gracious in consenting. The 1996 session took place in the afternoon in the Bainbridge living room where, seated in a comfortable armchair with a boom microphone angled above her, Dee performed her stories and told of her life.

Wenabozho's Beaver Dam [This etiological or origin legend regarding the formation of Chequamegon Bay also concerns the Ojibwe culture hero and trickster, Wenabozho (a.k.a. Winabijou, Manabozho, Manabus, and Nanabush), who wanders the world having many adventures. The soft dam is constructed of mud in William W. Warren's History of the Ojibway People (S1. Paul: Minnesota Historical Society, 1984; reprinted from the original 1885 edition), 102. A more expanded version appears, with reference to Warren, in Guy M. Burnham, The Lake Superior Country in History and Story (Ashland, Wise.: Browzer Books, 1975; reprinted from the original 1929 edition), 46-47.]

Wherever Indian people live there's always stories pertaining to that area. In this part of the country we have the story that's told about the Apostle Islands. They say that when Wenabozho was living in this part of the country then there were no islands in Lake Superior. One day he saw a big beaver swimming around in the bay-he was over toward Bayfield. Oh, he was really impressed, it was the biggest beaver he had ever seen. He built a dam across the bay to trap that beaver in there. He had his dam built and the beaver was trapped in there, and he was really excited. But 10 and behold that beaver broke through and swam out into the lake. Now Wenabozho was so angry that he took what he'd used to build his dam-sticks, rocks, and whatever-and he threw it as the beaver swam away. And they say that with each handful he created an island. And that's how the Apostle Islands were created. Now in our language-they say what's left of the dam is still visible, that's Long Island-in our language, we say jagawaamikoong: that means soft beaver dam. That's the story that pertains to this area.

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Wenabozho and the Birds [As Dee Bainbridge points out, this old story of the "Hoodwinked Dancers" (motif K826), involving the characteristics of the "hell diver," or grebe, is widely known not only to the Ojibwe-among whom it is told as both an independent story and an episode within a larger mythological story associated with the medicine lodge-but also to native peoples throughout North America. Victor Barnouw, who published a version recorded in 1944 from Tom Badger at Lac du Flambeau, contends persuasively that the story is so widely known because it "is such a good story." See Victor Barnouw, Wisconsin Chippewa Myths and Tales: And Their Relation to Chippewa Life (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1977), 26-28. Barnouw reports versions from the Eskimo of Labrador; the Beaver and Chipeweyan of the Mackenzie River district; the Cree, Canadian Ojibwa, Potawatomi, Kickapoo, Menomini, and Fox of the Central Woodlands; the following tribes of the Plains: Southern Ute, Southern Paiute, Comanche, Kiowa, Osage, Arapaho, Gros Ventre, Cheyenne, Omaha, Ponca, Crow, Dakota, Pawnee,·Iowa, Blackfoot, Piegan, and Assiniboine; the following northeastern Algonkian tribes: Micmac, Passamadquoddy, and Malecite, Montagnis-Naskapi; the Huron-Wyandot of the Iroquois area; the Cherokee, Caddo, and Creek of the Southeast; and the licarilla Apache of the Southwest.

The earliest published Ojibwe version appeared in 1839 in Henry Rowe Schoolcraft's Algie Researches: Indian Tales and Legends, reprinted by the Clearfield Company (Baltimore: 1992), 154-55. As Bainbridge mentions, this tale has often been performed by Ojibwes as a story song. Frances Densmore, the pioneering ethnomusicologist, recorded it from Skipping Day at Minnesota's White Earth Reservation in 1907; and linguist John Nichols collected another rendition from seventy-sixyear-old James Littlewolf of the Mille Lacs Reservation in 1971. Littlewolf may be heard on a sound recording produced by Thomas Vennum, Jr., Ojibway Music from Minnesota (S1. Paul: Minnesota Historical Society and the Minnesota State Arts Board, 1989).]

She [Ida Mary DePerry] told one in particular about [how] Wenabozho was always hungry. On one occasion he decided to invite all the birds. All the birds would come. The partridges, the pheasants, all the birds. And they all were in a circle there. And he said, "I have some new songs to sing for you. And," he says, "when you dance now, I want everybody to dance blindfolded." So they did. All the birds had blindfolds on. They were dancing. And Wenabozho would say, "Sing loud, sing loud. Adagook nagamoon, adagook neman. Dance hard." They were having a good time. They were making different kinds of noises. One little bird said, "This is strange. I don't know if we should trust Wenabozho. He likes to cheat people." So the bird kind of snuck away his blindfold and took a

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peek. Here Wenabozho was just grabbing as many birds as he could grab. He was wringing their necks and throwing them in a pile. Just grabbing as many as he could reach. And the little bird yelled, "Hiyaa Wenabozho, nisigonaan. Wenabozho is killing us." And so they all scattered and ran to get away. And the little bird was kind of slow as he ran out. And Wenabozho stepped on him and said, "You will walk this way forever, because you disobeyed and you have to suffer the consequences. And your eyes will be red because you looked, you peeked." That's why the hell diver has red eyes. And of course you know how ducks walk, like their back is broke. Those are the consequences that he suffered. You know most of the legends have where you suffer the consequences because you didn't do what you were told. That story is told on all the Ojibwe reservations, and there's some variations. In fact when I heard an old man at Lac Courte Oreilles tell it, he said it like he was pretending to be Wenabozho singing to these birds as they danced.

Smart Pills [This tale is a fine example of the Euro-Indian exchange that emerged from Wisconsin's fur trade and lumber camp eras. Although "Smart Pills" concerns Wenabozho in this version, it is clearly an ancient European jest wherein an itinerant trickster dupes some higher-up. It appeared as early as 1535 in the English chapbook Tales and Quicke Answeres, Very Mery, and Pleasant to Rede; reprinted in A Hundred Merry Tales, and Other lestbooks of the Fifteenth and Sixteenth Centuries, ed. P. M. Zall (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1963). Dee Bainbridge learned the story from her uncle, Mike DePerry, who heard the story in lumber camps. She used a jar of rabbit droppings as a prop when I first heard her perform it to Ojibwe teenagers in Bayfield in December 1992.]

And, of course, Wenabozho they said was smart. All the people thought of him as being so smart. He had some rabbit droppings in his pocket. And the people were asking him all kinds of different questions and he was answering. And they said, "Well how come you're so smart?" So he reached in his pocket and he took out a handful of rabbit droppings and he showed them. He said, "I take smart pills." He said, "These are smart pills." The people said, "Ohhh?!?" He said, "Yes! Smart pills." So they looked again. They said, "You know, Wenabozho, that looks like rabbit droppings." And Wenabozho said, "See, you're getting smart already." [Laughs.] Those are cute.

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The little People [Stories about "little people" among American Indians are widespread. William Jones and Truman Michelson present several in Ojibwa Texts (New York: Publications of the American Ethnological Society, vol. VII, 1919). The small rock masses known as concretions are abundant along the south shore of Lake Superior. In the 1990s, Byron Buckeridge maintains a small concretion museum in his barn situated along Highway 2 between Ashland and Hurley. A sign painted on the barn's gable proclaimed "Nothing Like It In New York!" See also Keith Wilmer's "The Little People," in this chapter.]

At Waverly Beach, that's out near Odana, we talk about little people. You have leprechauns and gnomes and fairies. The Indian people have their little people too. They're supposed to be little miniature Indian people. They live at Waverly Beach. And during the thunderstorms, when it's lightning and thundering, they're busy making concretions. I don't know if you know what concretions are? Little round stones. Some are large, some are small. They vary in size. Now to prove they've been on the beach, you walk along you'll find little rock formations that are shaped just like tiny feet. And you find those on Waverly Beach. They say at one time that was considered a sacred area because the little people lived there. You weren't allowed to cut any trees or do any hunting or desecrate the land in any way. Now it's a public beach and no longer do the people honor or give respect to that particular area. But concretions are pretty popular. I'm sure you've seen them.

The Windigo [Stories of windigos-cannibal giants with hearts of ice-have been widespread among Ojibwe peoples in both the United States and Canada. In chapter 5 of his Wisconsin Chippewa Myths and Tales, Barnouw presents texts and commentary for seven Windigo stories recorded in the 1940s at Lac Courte Oreilles and Lac du Flambeau.]

I asked her [Dee's grandmother] one time what a windigo was. She just said a giant. She didn't say a cannibalistic giant. That's what I've read about. She just said a giant, she didn't say much more than that. I don't remember the details, but I remember a story she told. Everybody was supposed to protect themselves. Maybe the windigo was coming. Some danger was near. And she says that's how-you've seen what hazelnuts look like. That's how they protected themselves. They put the peeling on. She used another example of some other kind of fruit that disguised itself be-

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The Lac Courte Oreilles Frog [This story likely involves an encounter with the larger-than-normal "chief" or leader of the frog people; a figure who takes pity on the starving hunter and assists him with food. The traditional association of two generally simultaneously occuring natural phenomena-the frogs' first chirping and the walleyes' spawning-is a mnemonic technique found in many cultures.]

Down at Couderay [Lac Courte Oreilles] they have a story called the Lac Courte Oreilles Frog. And they said this man's family was starving and he had gone hunting day after day. Came home and didn't bring any food. And he was getting very despondent. And he was walking. As he was down by the stream he happened to look across it. And there was a big frog sitting there, a giant frog. So he took his arrow and he aimed. He was just about to shoot the frog, and the frog said, "Wait, wait. Bekaa, Bekaa in Indian we say. "Don't shoot me," the frog said. "If you spare my life I will see, I will reward you that you will have plenty to eat." Well the man didn't know what to think about it. He said [to himself] that frog will make a fine meal for my family. lIe said [to himself], well how will he reward me? So he was pretty compassionate. He said, "All right then." Then the frog said, "You listen, you will hear my signal. You will hear the frogs. They will let you know that the food is wherever you want to use it, wherever you take it." Anyway the man went to bed that night. And toward morning, doggone, he heard the frogs, big bull frogs were croaking, and the little frogs were chirping. He said, "My goodness, I wonder if that's the signal so soon?" So he went down to the stream where he saw that [frog] and sure enough there the walleye were spawning. He had plenty of fish, he had plenty of food. And they say to this day when you hear the frogs chirping in the spring, you will know the walleye are spawning. And it's true, that is true.

Big Nose [The setting is a traditional wake where people gather during the four days when the deceased's soul travels the road to the spirit world.]

We have a story that's told in Ojibwe.... The story goes that one Indian man had died. And all the people came to his house. They were going to sing and they were going to pray and they were going to eat. And they all sat around.

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And two ladies were sitting there together. And they were visiting and talking. And then the door opened. And one lady came in. And this one said to the other one, "Oh my, who is that with the big nose?" And that lady [with the big nose] came and sat next to them. She sat there too. They were singing and praying. Finally one of the ladies there kind of nudged her. "Why don't you help us sing?" And she said, "No." And they said, "Why?" And she said, "My nose is too big." And that's the end of the story. Of course Indian people say you should never criticize anyone, or you will have to experience that yourself. [Dee makes this proverbial observation in Ojibwe.] Don't criticize because you will have to experience that same kind of situation. That's kind of an example of that kind of thing. But it's real comical in Ojibwa because the words sound the same. Like when they say: "Who is that that came in with the big nose?" But when you translate that you lose a lot of the punchline.

Too Sick [Traditional stories about lazy people are found throughout the world. Hence the proverb: He who does not work does not eat. This story is reminiscent of another often reported in North America wherein a lazy man who is starving refuses a gift of rice or com because it is not cooked. He starves to death. See Antti Aame and Stith Thompson, tale Type 1951, Is Wood Split? The Types ofthe Folktale (Helsinki: Suomalainen Tiedeakatemia, 1961), 519.]

There was another story that she [Ida Mary DePerry] told in Ojibwe, about a young Indian boy. He was sick. She'd tell this in Ojibwe. When they wanted him to haul water or bring in wood, he'd say, "No I can't, I'm too sick." They'd say, "Bring us some water. We need some water to cook." He'd say, "No I can't, I'm too sick." And the old woman who was there said, "What's the matter with you? You're always sick, you're always sick." "Well," he said, "the same thing that ails my grandfather, that's the same thing that's ailing me." She said, "Oh you lie. I knew your old grandfather. He starved to death." That was the story. It was told in Indian. The words sound comical. But then you translate it. When I was tired and didn't want to do something, or my grandma would mention that I should do, or suggest, I would say [in Ojibwe, then English] "What ailed myoid grandfather, that's the same thing that ails me." So we used to have fun with those kind of things.

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At the Trading Post [Dee Bainbridge learned this story from her Uncle John Soulier, who worked in lumber camps and trapped. Antti Aame and Stith Thompson note its diffusion throughout Eurasia and the Americas, and classify the tale as Type 1336A, Man Does Not Recognize Own Reflection in the Water (Mirror) (1961:397). I also recorded the tale in 1977 from Pete Trzebiatowski, a Polish American tavemkeeper, in Stevens Point, Wisconsin. For a fine version from the Ozarks, accompanied by Herbert Halpert's detailed notes on the tale's North American diffusion, see Vance Randolph, The Talking Turtle (New York: Columbia University Press, 1957), 197-98.]

They say during the fur trading days the Indian people trapped the animals and brought them into the fur trading post. And they say this one old fellow always came in with a nice big pack of furs to trade. And as he came in the door there was a big mirror there. He was really impressed. He looked up and he looked down. And the clerk come by. And he said to the clerk, "Who is that?" And the clerk said, "That's you, that's your reflection." He said, "Will I trade my furs and take this home?" The clerk said, "No, no. That belongs to the American Fur Company. But," he says, "if you go 'round when you're shopping to the back there's little ones, this size, small, you could take and put in your packsack." The old fellow went along and he was pulling off blankets and wool socks and treats for the kids. And he had his pack practically full and then he came to the mirrors. He thought, "Oh," his wife would be happy to have this. So he took the mirror and he put it in his packsack. Then he got a couple more pairs of socks and filled his packsack right to the top. He used up all the credit he had, so then he went home. When he got home his wife was angry. She scolded him. "You been gone too long. We need water, we need wood. You'll have to go right away." So he left. And his packsack was there. So she decided she would unpack. Take everything out of there for him. And she was taking socks out. And she liked the blanket. And then she came to the mirror. She looked at the mirror, she looked and she started to cry. She said to her mother, "Oh look, he found a new woman." The old grandma come over there and she said, "Let me see." The old grandma took a look, she held the mirror up, and she said, "Don't worry my girl, she's old and she's ugly." So that was the first story they used to tell.

It Was So Cold [Fred DePerry's tall tale of winters so hard that the unfreezable freezes is closely related to Type 1889F, Frozen Words (Music) Thaw (Aame and Thompson 1961:

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511). Ernest Baughman cites more than a score of stories from throughout the United States under motifX.1623.3.1 *, Flames freeze with unusual results, in his Type and Motif-Index of the Folktales of England and North America (The Hague: Mouton, 1966), 567.]

Of course, they [Dee's uncles] talked about their experiences, not just tales all the time. I had another uncle, Fred. He used to work in Alaska. He said it was so cold up there you didn't have to blowout the lamp. You just picked up the flame [Dee gestures as if pinching a flame betwixt thumb and index finger] and you put it on the side. [Laughs.] Real preposterous kind of things.

I Ate So Much Rabbit [The idea that one acquires the characteristics of an animal from eating it is an old one in many cultures. In the Ozarks during the Great Depression rabbits were sometimes referred to as "Hoover pork." Vance Randolph reports an old woodsman saying, "I et so many rabbits when Hoover was president, that every time a dog barked I run for a holler log!" See his We Always Lie to Strangers: Tall Tales from the Ozarks (New York: Columbia University Press, 1951), 262.]

I would go in the woods when my grandfather cut wood. And we ate a lot of rabbit when I was little. My grandfather would set snares near the woodlot. We would cut wood, then get a rabbit from the snare. We each got a designated piece of meat. My grandma would get the ribcage. I would get the backbone with the kidneys still attached. My grandfather would get the arms. I ate so much rabbit, I said, that when the dogs barked I used to run and hide. That was about the only meat we had access to. And a lot of fish. Once in awhile, when my uncle went hunting, he'd get venison, so we ate venison.

Devil at the Dance Hall [Legends associating the devil with dancing, revelry and, often, fiddle music have deep European roots. See, for example, "The Demon Dancer" in Reidar Christiansen, The Migratory Legends (Helsinki: Suomalainen Tiedeakatemia, 1958), 53; and motif G303.10.4.0.1, "Devil Haunts Dance Halls," (Thompson 1955: vol. 3, 332). The legend presented here is found throughout French Canada and those areas of the northern United States marked by the fur trade, logging camps, and metis culture. Its elements of animal/human mergers and of the summoning of spirits through dancing easily blended with parallel beliefs among native peoples. See, for example, Michael Loukinen's 1991 film, Medicine Fiddle, and James P. Leary, "Sawdust and

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Devils," in James P. Leary, ed., Medicine Fiddle: A Discussion Guide (Marquette: Northern Michigan University/Up North Films, 1992). In a related anecdote, Dee recalls a nun's horrified reaction to her revelation that not only was her favorite instrument the "devil's instrument," but her favorite tune also had demonic associations: "I hadn't heard much music but my grandfather's fiddle. And I said, 'Devil's Dream.' [Laughs.] She was rather shocked ... 'Devil's Dream' was the only tune name I remember my grandpa could play." For another version, see Keith Wilmer's "The Dancing Devil," in this chapter.]

That was a story that the grandmas would tell us. Indian people always like to have these dances. And they said on one occasion a man came in with a long overcoat on. And he was dancing. And as he swung around-"Allemande left and allemande right" they'd say-and, as he swung around, his coat would fly up and they could see his tail. And another thing they said was, he liked to dance, but he liked the fiddle music too. So he went on the stage. At one dance he was fiddling, this man. And they said the people were dancing so hard they practically danced their feet off. This man in the black overcoat. Then he says, "Well I'm tired fiddling." So he says to the next fellow, "Come here, you fiddle. I want to dance." So the man says, "Well, I don't know how to fiddle." And that man in the black coat says, "Yes you do." He gave him the fiddle and, doggone, he could play the fiddle. But they were always talking about the devil attending their dances. And I don't know if they originated those stories, or if the nuns originated them to try to scare us. 'Cause you know they thought that dancing was evil and sinful.

Bearwalkers and Fireballs ["Bearwalkers," the shape-shifting sorcerers of Ojibwe tradition, were said to assume the forms of bears and other animals when traveling by night. Sometimes they used magic to harm or kill their enemies, and a flashing light or fireball was often regarded as a sign of their presence. For stories of Ojibwe bearwalkers in northern Wisconsin and the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, see Barnouw, Wisconsin Chippewa Myths and Tales, 137-40; Richard M. Dorson, Bloodstoppers and Bearwalkers: Folk Traditions of the Upper Peninsula (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1952), chapter 2; and Sister M. Carolissa Levi, Chippewa Indians of Yesterday and Today (New York: Pageant Press, 1956), chapter 36. See also Keith Wilmer's trio of stories regarding sorcery, in this chapter.]

I've heard, but just kind of hints about it. I imagine some people had some kind of strange power. If you're involved in a natural setting where your home is a birchbark

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wigwam, and you eat all the wild food, and you swim in the river, you're part of nature. I think that some of those people acquired a certain power from some kind of animal. And they could do the bearwalk and different other psychic kinds of things. They talk about fireballs. Indian people who did evil sometimes would send a fireball to somebody's house. And that firehall would leave something bad. They always say that's a bad sign, a bad omen. I've forgotten a lot of this stuff. We used to ask my grandma. She'd get tired of us asking and say, "Oh, I don't know."

The Stories of Keith Wilmer Commentary and Transcriptions by Alissa Matlack, Annotations by James P. leary Keith Wilmer is a quiet guy. Originally from Ashland, Wisconsin, he lived down the hall from me on the eighth floor of Witte B dormitory at the University of WisconsinMadison. Our first conversation started as many do at the beginning of a freshman's first semester. "Hi. Where are you from?" Upon discovering that we lived near each other (I am from Lake Nebagamon), Keith and I immediately started comparing notes. The conversation soon turned to the dominance of one high school football team over the other, since our former schools have a longstanding rivalry and Keith himself had been a team member. Since then Keith and I have had many conversations about home, common acquaintances, and college life. He was, however, a little hesitant about agreeing to be tape recorded for this project; yet his good nature overcame his apprehension and I think he did fine. We decided to have our discussion in the den, a gathering place for floor residents. The informal setting created a more comfortable atmosphere, since most of our previous conversations had also taken place in this room. Here we were on common ground. Though there were other people in the room, a football game on television ensured privacy by masking the sounds of our conversation. The other occupants of the room were too busy telling their own jokes and stories to pay much attention to us anyway. The background noise that they provided, while making the taped conversation difficult to understand at times, helped alleviate some of the tension. Even though Keith isn't normally an aggressive speaker, his demeanor was more subdued than usual. I'm not sure if this was due to the types of stories he was about to tell me-most were of a personal nature-or to the content of the stories themselves; most people tend to lower their voices when speaking of the supernatural, perhaps to add gravity to a tale of questionable source. Keith spoke straightforwardly without beating around the bush. With the exception of a few "likes" and "ahhs," he told his stories very coherently. I don't think Keith would normally tell these tales without prompting from an audience; his nature is against it, so he hasn't developed a characteristic style and wasn't skilled at elaboration, usually skipping extraneous details. His stories do, however, show organization. Rarely did Keith

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have to backtrack to the beginning of an oration to add a pertinent detail that he had neglected to mention the first time through. For my part, I found his stories interesting and entertaining. I tried to ask questions when I didn't understand or wanted specific details. Keith was willing to interact with me, and allowed me to lead him into several discussions with my questions. He had decided what stories he would tell beforehand, so the session did not include any spontaneous recollections, which might also contribute to the subdued atmosphere of our conversation. Keith learned many of his stories from either his uncles or his father. They would often share these tales while in the woods hunting or fishing, usually if camping. His father is the youngest of twelve brothers to whom Keith refers collectively as "my uncles." All were born on the Bad River Ojibwe Reservation near Ashland, and all live there today. Though many of his uncles traveled when they were young men, family ties are strong bonds, and all the brothers returned to the area in order to help one another and their parents. The majority of Keith's repertoire is composed of family stories; events that happened to his grandfather, uncles, cousin, or himself. I would guess that he was told most of these tales as a means of establishing a family identity. Though Keith knows many stories involving his grandfather, he remembers little of the medicine man, who died while Keith was young. Though the doctors claimed he died of cancer, Keith believes that the evil spirits that plague powerful medicine men finally overpowered his grandfather. Many of Keith's stories could also be told to entertain. Each of us has experienced the fun of a marathon storytelling session that gets started when one person says, "Remember the time when ... ?" Keith likewise related an educational story about a "bad place." This place was characterized by three holes in the ground, bottomless pits. Parents would warn their children not to play in the area of these pits because evil little people would take them away. Keith openly admitted that he didn't believe that such a place even existed, but that adults would often tell about it just to manipulate a child's behavior. One of the most interesting aspects of Keith's repertoire is the mixing of devil stories, associated with the Christian religion, with more traditional Ojibwe stories involving little people and changelings. As a child, Keith attended a Catholic elementary school. Some of his most vivid memories at this school are of seeing other Indian children punished for speaking their native language or telling traditional stories. Considering the mixed messages that he received throughout his early childhood-practicing Indian culture at home while being told at school that his lifestyle was inferior-the mixed nature of his storytelling repertoire is understandable.

Grandpa and the Changeling [Within traditional Ojibwe mythology there is perpetual warfare between the higher spirits of the air, particularly the thunderbirds, and the spirits of the underground or underworld-often embodied in snakes, lizards, toads, and frogs. Sometimes re-

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ferred to as macimanidog (evil spirits), these creatures were said to inflict blue choke marks on the throats of people they overheard telling mythological stories concerning them-hence the traditional practice of telling stories in the winter, when such creatures were hibernating. Although occasionally helpful to people, as in Dee Bainbridge's story of the "Lac Courte Oreilles Frog," underworld animals were more commonly the source of sorcerers' medicines (see Barnouw, 132-37; and Levi, chapter 36). As Alissa Matlack points out, Keith Wilmer heard supernatural stories regarding his grandfather within the natural context of hunting camps when darkness and proximity to the site of past occurences heightened his experience.]

My uncles were telling me one night-my grandpa, him and a couple other guys were hunting. And they were hunting and my grandpa shot at a deer. And he's always been known as a good shot. And so, ya know, he dropped the deer. They, they went to track the deer-it was at night-they were shining. Ahhhh, they got to where it was and then, they saw a dead, well not a dead frog, but a frog with a hole in it, really. It was weird'cause my grandpa's a medicine man. And it was like this changeling or something. Like I guess, well, he stomped on it and started squishing it, trying to kill it. But when he lifted his foot up, like a lizard [it] ran away. My uncle told me that was a real freaky one for him.

Uncle and the Fireball [See Dee Bainbridge's "Bearwalkers and Fireballs."]

My uncle also told me about a time when he was alone, he was hunting and a fireball came up to him. And everyone says, you know, they're like: "It happens in nature." And I don't buy that. He said, "It's like an eye. They just, like, look at you, see what you're thinking." And they say not to be scared of them: then that's bad, then they can hurt you. He just started telling us about this one night when we were going to go hunting the next day, because he had seen it when he was hunting. He said it was blue and it can be peaceful, but I've heard stories where it chased people. I don't know any specific ones though. They can be bad, but basically they just check you out.

Grandpa's Night Visitor [Night is the time when shape-shifting Ojibwe sorcerers pursue their enemies. Note here too the "clip-clopping footsteps," indicative of the Christian devil's cloven hoofs, that recur in the subsequent devil story and demonstrate the fusion of European and American Indian beliefs.]

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Another neat story was-my dad told me about this, so did my uncle, they both told it the same way-since my grandpa was a medicine man, there were all these spirits that were trying to get him. So they lived at the top of a hill and they locked their doors at night. And one night while they were sleeping, they heard someone open the door and start walking through the house. Kind of clip-clopping footsteps. Well, my grandpa got up to check and-both doors were locked-and they had this huge dog. And he looked for the dog. They found him under the heating stove. He had squished under there, he was so scared, and died-because he was so scared. I don't think he cooked to death.

The Dancing Devil [Keith Wilmer acknowledges this story's antiquity, but updates it by calling the dance a prom. See also Dee Bainbridge's "Devil at the Dance Hall."]

There's a story that-like a long time ago when they still used horses-that a guy showed up at the prom. He danced with this one girl all night, sweet talking her and whatnot. And, as they were leaving, everybody kind of noticed that he had hooves for feet. They knew the guy had hooves because they kind of heard the clip-clop as he walked. They ... the girl was never seen again after that night. It was weird. I've heard that one a couple times.

The little People [As Alissa Matlack mentions, Keith's parents and uncles invoked the little people to keep curious youngsters from visiting potentially dangerous places. It is likely that they also told legends, akin to Dee Bainbridge's "The Little People," regarding nearby Waverly Beach and the doings of little people. Consequently it is hardly surprising that such creatures would figure in dreams and resultant personal experience stories.]

The story that's neat was: my cousin used to see little people. He was between seven and fourteen when he was seeing them. He'd wake up in the middle of the night and there'd be an Indian chief on one bedpost and a squaw on the other. And there'd be a bunch of bad ones. These two were good, they protected him. And there'd be a bunch of bad ones on the floor. Trying to take him away. And my cousin shared a room with his brother and would wake up in the middle of the night. He'd be saying that [he could see the little people].

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[And the cousin's brother would say] "Why are you saying that? Shut up and go to sleep." He couldn't see them. He [Keith's cousin] seen them for the longest time, he always used to see them. Then one night he didn't see them, but something was wrong. He got up to go to the living room and he seen someone laying on the couch; he thought it was his dad. He said, "Dad, Dad." And the guy stood up. I guess my cousin said he was like eight feet tall, and started walking toward him. The kid took off, and he ran through one of those baby gates. He was like five or six or seven, and he ran through one. He didn't even slow down, he just shot through it and landed on the stairs. That was weird. His parents never saw the man.

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14

Legends of Paul Bunyan, Lumberiack K. Bernice Stewart and Homer A. Watt

Paul Bunyan is an inescapable presence in contemporary Wisconsin. One can read about his exploits in fourth-grade social studies texts, see his mighty ax at Wisconsin-Minnesota football games, gorge in his restaurants in Minocqua and Wisconsin Dells, pose alongside his statue in Eau Claire, and marvel at the immensity of his underwear in Rhinelander. Bunyan's current association with the bygone days of white pine logging, lumber camps, and river drives is undeniable. But the extent to which Wisconsin's bygone woods workers actually told stories about Paul Bunyan remains a matter of debate. Bunyan Rrst appeared in print on July 24, 1910, when James McGillivray, a former Michigan lumberjack, strung together a dozen short anecdotes in a story for the Detroit News- Tribune, "The Round River Drive." Nearly four years later, on April 25, 1914, Douglas Malloch of Chicago rendered McGillivray's stories into verse for the American Lumberman magazine. That same year, W. B. laughead, who had worked in northern Minnesota's woods from 1900 to 1908, compiled a thirty-two page pamphlet for the Minneapolis-based Red River lumber Company that intermixed Paul Bunyan stories with advertising copy. laughead, with a popular audience in mind, went on to revise and expand Bunyan's exploits and by the early 1920s Bunyan had become a national Rgure, celebrated in mass media and claimed by every logging community in North America (see Daniel G. Hoffman, Paul Bunyan: Last of the Frontier Demigods [Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1952]; and Richard M. Dorson, ''Twentieth-Century Comic Demigods," in his American Folklore [Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1959], 214-26). There is considerable evidence, however, that Wisconsin lumberjacks knew few if any Bunyan stories before that Rgure's popularization through print in the 1920s. It was not until that decade, for example, that Paul Fournier established the Paul Bunyan Resort in Rice lake, where the former timber cruiser assumed Bunyan's persona to entertain tourists with tall tales. Subsequently the local bakery sold Paul Bunyan Bread. Nor was Bunyan's ox neglected. On December 16, 1925, the Rice Lake Chronotype reported: ''The burial place of Babe, the famous blue ox of Paul Bunyan, has been located about a mile west of Turtle lake by the county highway commissioner, who says the ground is sacred to every loyal lumberjack and can never be disturbed for road building." The Bunyan bandwagon kept rolling thanks to promoters of northwestern Wisconsin's "Indianhead Country," who touted the region's natural beauty and legendary heritage in hopes of luring freespending visitors. In a parallel instance, John Emmett Nelligan, following an extended career in logging camps from the Canadian Maritime Provinces to northeastern Wisconsin, published his reminiscences, which included a string of Bunyan stories, as The Life of a Lumberman in 1929. Yet the Bunyan material was eliminated when Nelligan's account was serialized in volume 13 of the Wisconsin Magazine of History. Why? Editor Joseph Schafer discovered that Nelligan, an accomplished raconteur and a storehouse of vivid woods anecdotes, had in fact never heard any Paul Bunyan stories while working in the woods. Undaunted, Nelligan's collaborator, Charles Sheridan of

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(1916): 639-51.

The following study of lumberjack legends has grown out of a little collection of these tales made in the lumber camps by Miss Stewart, who for years has heard the stories told by the lumberjacks of Wisconsin and Michigan. Recently by corresponding with and interviewing lumbermen and others who are or who have been intimately connected with the lumber camps we have added to the original collection a considerable number of new legends, besides many different versions of stories already in our collection, and a great deal of miscellaneous information about the hero, Paul Bunyan and his blue ox. Some of these stories, as must be expected of any such series, are too coarse for publication. It has seemed to us, however, that for the most part the tales are quite wholesome; perhaps the circumstances under which they were collected have automatically excluded those of the rougher type. We realize, moreover, that our present collection represents only a comparatively small number of these stories; versions which have come to us from Oregon and Washington indicate that the tales are widely spread. We expect to continue our search for Paul Bunyan material, and shall be very glad to receive any information which will assist us. Communications should be addressed to Mr. H. A. Watt, Department of English, New York University, New York. We wish to acknowledge our indebtedness to Mr. B. R. Taylor, Mr. M. W. Sergeant, and Mr. Harold Stark, students in the University who have recently lived in the lumber districts of northern Wisconsin, and who have heard Paul Bunyan tales from boyhood, to Mr. Douglas Malloch of Chicago for a copy of his poem, The Round River Drive, a metrical version of some of the tales which was published in The American Lumberman for April 25, 1914, to the Red River Lumber Company of Minneapolis, Minnesota, and to lumbermen and others who have sent us material from the lumber districts. The most significant of recent developments in the study of folklore and the

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14.1. Paul Bunyan and his ox, Babe, haul the timber in the imaginary Section 37 (there are but 36 sections in a town). State Historical Society of Wisconsin, WHi (X3) 7919.

popular ballad began with the discovery that the making of folktales and communal poetry did not cease entirely with the coming of the printing-press, but that in certain isolated communities unreached by the paralyzing contact of the printed sheet the process of communal composition has gone on, roughly, fragmentarily, perhaps, but nonetheless genuinely. Here in America there is a complete cycle of ballads celebrating the exploits of the outlaw Jesse James; Professor John Lomax has made an extensive collection of cowboy songs; and the isolated mountaineers of Kentucky and Tennessee have many songs and tales, some curiously distorted fragments of old-world ballads, others quite local in subject-matter and tone. The student of folklore has come, in fact, to expect that wherever there is more or less permanent isolation from the outside world of large groups of people engaged in the same occupation or at least having a community of interests, there is almost certain to spring up in time tales peculiar to that community. It is not, accordingly, surprising that such legends exist among the lumbermen of the Great North, among a community shut off from the world for months at a time and bound together by peculiar bonds. It is among these toilers of the forests that the legends of Paul Bunyan have originated: Paul Bunyan, the greatest lumberjack whoever skidded a log, who with the aid of his wonderful blue ox and his crew of hardy lumbermen cleared one hundred million feet of pine from a single forty and performed other feats related about the roaring fires of the lumber shanties. The legends of Paul Bunyan are widely distributed throughout the lumber districts of the North. The tales in our little collection have

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come from lumbercamps in the Northern Peninsula of Michigan and from the Saginaw Valley in the Southern Peninsula, from Langlade County and from camps along the Flambeau and Wisconsin rivers in Wisconsin, from northern Minnesota and from camps as far west as Oregon, Washington, and British Columbia. It is quite apparent that the lumberjacks in their slow ·migration westward have carried the tales freely from camp to camp into all of the lumbering states of the North and into the forests of Canada. The antiquity of the tales is more difficult to determine than the extent of their distribution. It seems certain, however, from the circumstances that they have been passed down from one generation of lumbermen to another for a long period of time, that these stories of Paul Bunyan date well back into the early days of lumbering in Michigan and were carried from Michigan to Wisconsin about the middle of the last century. It seems certain, too, that many of the tales now included in the Bunyan cycle were narrated long before Bunyan became the lumberman hero. Similar tales, lacking, of course, the local color of the Bunyan yams, are to be found in the extravagant stories of Baron Munchausen and of Rabelais as well as in folktales from more settled parts of the United States of America. An extremely interesting study-so complex, however, that we have not yet completed it-is the tracing of the old world originals of the Bunyan stories to determine just to what extent the American tales are new and to what extent they were brought from France and England by early pioneers. Whether Paul Bunyan ever lived or is as mythical as Sairey Camp's Mrs. Harris we have not yet succeeded in definitely finding out. All lumberjacks, of course, believe, or pretend to believe, that he really lived and was the great pioneer in the lumber country; some of the older men even claim to have known him or members of his crew, and in northern Minnesota the supposed location of his grave is actually pointed out. A half-breed lumberman whom Miss Stewart interviewed asserted positively that there was a Paul Bunyan and that the place where he cut his hundred million feet from a single forty is actually on the map. We have found in several localities characters still living about whose prowess as lumbermen exaggerated stories are already being told; it is probable that the tales will continue to be told, with additions, after these local heroes have died. In a similar manner, we believe, did Paul Bunyan come into existence. He was probably some swamper or shacker or lumberjack more skillful and more clever than average, about whose exploits grew a series of stories; after his death his fame probably spread from camp to camp, more tales were added to those told about him, and thus, gradually, he became in time an exaggerated type of the lumberjack, and the hero of more exploits than he could possibly have carried out in his lifetime. The Bunyan stories are usually told in the evening around the fires in the bunkhouses. The older narrators speak in the French Canadian dialect, and the stories are often full of the technical jargon of the woods. Usually the stories are told to arouse the wonder of the tenderfoot or simply as contributions in a contest in yarning. They are always of a grotesque and fabulous type, and they are all more or less closely related to the exploits of Bunyan and his lumbering crew. "That happened,"

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says the narrator, "the year I went up for Paul Bunyan. Of course you have all heard of Paul." And so the tale begins. It is matched by a bigger yam, and the series grows. Often the scene of the exploits narrated is quite fictitious, like the Round River, which is in section thirty-seven, or the Big Onion River, three weeks this side of Quebec. Often, too, the lumberjacks will tell of events that they say occurred on another lumbering stream than the one they are working on; thus the men of the Flambeau camps will tell of the deeds of Paul Bunyan on the Wisconsin River or on the Chippewa River. Sometimes the storytellers will take Bunyan abroad and will tell of his doings, for example, among the big trees of Oregon, or they will tell of what happened when Paul was a boy on his father's farm. Usually, however, the tales are supposed to have occurred in the "good" days of lumbering, some forty or fifty years back when the country was new, and in localities not far from the camps in which the yams are told. But to our tales. Bunyan was a powerful giant, seven feet tall and with a stride of seven feet. He was famous throughout the lumbering districts for his physical strength and for the ingenuity with which he met difficult situations. He was so powerful that no man could successfully oppose him, and his ability to get drunk was proverbial. So great was his lung capacity that he called his men to dinner by blowing through a hollow tree a blast so strong that it blew down the timber on a tract of sixty acres, and when he spoke, the limbs sometimes fell from the trees. To keep his pipe filled required the entire time of a swamper with a scoop-shovel. In the gentle art of writing Bunyan had, however, no skill. He kept his men's time by cutting notches in a stick of wood, and he ordered supplies for camp by drawing pictures of what he wanted. On one occasion only did his ingenuity fail; he ordered grindstones and got cheeses. "Oh," says Paul, "I forgot to put the holes in my grind-stones." Bunyan was assisted in his lumbering exploits by a wonderful blue ox, a creature that had the strength of nine horses and that weighed, according to some accounts, five thousand pounds, and according to others, twice that. The ox measured from tip to tip of his horns just seven feet, exactly his master's height. Other accounts declare that the ox was seven feet-or seven ax-handles-between his eyes, and fourteen feet between his horns. Originally he was pure white, but one winter in the woods it snowed blue snow for seven days (that was the winter of the snow-snakes) and Bunyan's ox from lying out in the snow all winter became and remained a brilliant blue. Many of the Bunyan legends are connected with the feats performed by the ox. Bunyan's method of peeling a log was as follows: He would hitch the ox to one end of the log, grasp the bark at the other end with his powerful arms, give a sharp command to the animal, and, presto, out would come the log as clean as a whistle. On one occasion Paul dragged a whole house up a hill with the help of his ox, and then, returning, he dragged the cellar up after the house. Occasionally, as might have been expected from so huge a creature, the ox got into mischief about camp. One night, for example, he broke loose and ate up two hundred feet of towline. One favorite tale connected with the blue ox is that of the buckskin harness. One day old Forty Jones of Bunyan's crew killed two hundred deer by the simple

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process of tripping a key-log which supported a pile of logs on a hillside above the place where the animals came to drink. The skins were made into a harness for the blue ox. Some days later while the cook was hauling a log in for firewood, it began to rain, the buckskin began to stretch, and by the time the ox reached camp the log was out of sight around a bend in the road with the tugs stretching back endlessly after it. The cook tied the ox and went to dinner. While he was eating, the sun came out boiling hot, dried the buckskin harness, and hauled the log into camp. Another version of this tale is reported to us by Professor Beatty of the University of Wisconsin, who heard the story when he was a boy in Canada. Whether Professor Beatty's version is simply a detached member of the Bunyan story-cycle or whether, conversely, it existed originally as an independent tale and was later connected with the blue ox, we do not know. The latter explanation seems the probable one. One tale of the blue ox had best be told in the words of the lumberjack who sent it to a friend of Miss Stewart's, in a letter written with very evident care and with every other word capitalized. Paul B Driving a large Bunch of logs Down the Wisconsin River When the logs Suddenly Jamed in the Dells. The logs were piled Two Hundred feet high at the head, And were backed up for One mile up river. Paul was at the rear of the Jam with the Blue Oxen And while he was coming to the front the Crew was trying to break the Jam but they couldent Budge it. When Paul Arrived at the Head with the ox he told them to Stand Back. He put the Ox in the old Wise. in front of the Jam. And then Standing on the Bank Shot the Ox with a 303 Savage Rifle. The Ox thought it was flies And began to Switch his Tail. The tail commenced to go around in a circle And up Stream And do you know That Ox Switching his tail forced that Stream to flow Backwards And Eventually the Jam floated back Also. He took the ox out of the Stream. And let the Stream And logs go on their way.

Most of the exploits of Paul Bunyan center at Round River. Here Bunyan and his crew labored all one winter to clear the pine from a single forty. This was a most peculiar forty in that it was shaped like a pyramid with a heavy timber growth on all sides. The attention of skeptics who refuse to believe in the existence of the pyramid forty is certain to be called by the storyteller to a lumberman with a short leg, a member, the listener is solemnly assured, of Bunyan's crew, who got his short leg from working all winter on one side of the pyramid, and who thus earned the nickname of "Rockin' Horse." From this single forty Bunyan's crew cleared one hundred million feet of pine, and in the spring they started it down the river. Then began the difficulty, for it was not until they had passed their old camp several times that they realized that the river was round and had no outlet whatever. According to another version this logging occurred on a lake with no outlet. Bunyan's crew was so large that he was obliged to divide the men into three gangs; of these one was always going to work, one was always at work, and the third was always coming home from work. The cooking arrangements for so many men were naturally on an immense scale. Seven men with seven wheelbarrows were kept busy wheeling the prune-stones away from camp. The cookstove was so extensive that three forties had to be cleared bare each week to keep up a fire, and an entire

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cord of wood was needed to start a blaze. One day as soon as the cook had put a loaf of bread into the oven he started to walk around the stove in order to remove the loaf from the other side, but long before he reached his destination the bread had burned to a crisp. Such loaves were, of course, gigantic-so big, in fact, that after the crew had eaten the insides out of them, the hollow crusts were used for bunkhouses, or, according to a less imaginative account, for bunks. One legend reports that the loaves were not baked in a stove at all but in a ravine or dried riverbed with heat provided by blazing slashings along the sides. Such a stove as Bunyan's demanded, of course, a pancake griddle of monstrous size. As a matter of fact, Bunyan's cook, Joe Mufferon, used the entire top of the stove for [a] griddle and greased it every morning by strapping hams to the feet of his assistant cooks and obliging them to skate about on it for an hour or so. Of this famous tale there are several versions. According to one the cook mixed his batter in a sort of concrete-mixer on the roof of the cook shanty and spread it upon the stove by means of a connecting hose. A version from Oregon shows the influence of local conditions upon the Bunyan tales; from this version we learn that two hundred Japanese cooks with bacon-rinds or bear-steak strapped to their feet skated upon the stove before the cook spread his batter. In a Minnesota version Bunyan employs his twenty-four daughters for the same menial task. By mistake one day the nearsighted cook put into the batter several fingers of blasting-powder instead of bakingpowder, and when the mixture was spread upon the griddle the cookees made a very rapid ascent through the cook shanty roof and never returned to camp. Paul Bunyan's ingenuity in keeping his men supplied with food and drink appears best in the pea soup lake story, of which there are several versions, and in the wondrous tale of the camp distillery. Near the Round River camp was a hot spring, into which the tote-teamster, returning one day from town with a load of peas, dumped the whole load by accident. Most men would have regarded the peas as a dead loss, but not so Paul. He promptly added the proper amount of pepper and salt to the mixture and had enough hot pea soup to last the crew all winter. When his men were working too far away from camp to return to dinner, he got the soup to them by freezing it upon the ends of sticks and sending it in that shape. According to another version of the pea soup lake story Paul deliberately made the pea soup; he dumped the peas into a small lake and heated the mess by firing the slashings around the shore. In a Wisconsinized version of the Michigan tale the peas have become, for some reason, beans. A much exaggerated version of this story comes from northern Wisconsin. According to this account the tote-teamster was driving across a frozen lake when a sudden thaw overtook him. The teamster saved himself, but the ox was drowned. Bunyan dammed up the lake, fired the slashings around the shore, and then, opening the dam, sluiced down the river to his laboring crew an abundance of excellent hot pea soup with ox-tail flavor. The legend of the establishment of the camp distillery is one of the most entertaining of the Bunyan tales. Paul had trouble in keeping any liquor in camp because the men sent to town for it drank it all up on the way back. The following is Mr. Douglas Malloch's versified account of how he solved the difficulty:

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One day the bull-cook parin' spuds He hears a sizzlin' in the suds And finds the peelin's, strange to say, Are all fermentin' where they lay. Now Sourface Murphy in Was standin'. And the face he wore Convinced the first assistant cook That Murphy soured 'em with his look And when he had the peelin's drained A quart of Irish booze remained. The bull-cook tells the tale to Paul And Paul takes Murphy off the haul And gives him, very willingly A job as camp distillery.

Some of the tales of the camp exploits concern members of Paul Bunyan's crew rather than the hero himself. One of the men, for example, had two sets of teeth, and, walking in his sleep one night, he encountered the grindstone and chewed it to bits before he was fully aroused to what he was doing. In the adventure of another member of the crew we have the familiar tale of the man who jumped across the river in three jumps. The crew sometimes showed ingenuity on their own account as when they rolled boulders down the steep sides of the pyramid forty, and running after them ground their axes to a razor edge against the revolving stones. Connected very frequently with the Bunyan tales are accounts of fabulous animals that haunted the camp. There is the bird who lays square eggs so that they will not roll down hill, and hatches them in the snow. Then there is the side-hill dodger, a curious animal naturally adapted to life on a hill by virtue of the circumstance that it has two short legs on the uphill side. Of this creature it is said that by mistake the female dodger once laid her eggs (for the species seems to resemble somewhat the Australian duck-bill) wrong end around, with the terrible result that the little dodgers, hatching out with their short legs down hill, rolled into the river and drowned. The pinnacle grouse are birds with only one wing, adapted by this defect for flight in one direction about the top of a conical hill. There is little doubt that these animal stories existed outside the Bunyan cycle, and are simply appended to the central group of tales. The story of Bunyan's method of paying off his crew at the end of the season shows the hero's craftiness. Discovering in the spring that he had no money on hand, Bunyan suddenly rushed into camp shouting that they had been cutting government pine and were all to be arrested. Each man thereupon seized what camp property lay nearest his hand and made off, no two men taking the same direction. Thus Bunyan cleared his camp without paying his men a cent for their labor. Not all of the Bunyan stories are concerned with Bunyan's life in the Round River or the Big Onion camps. There are several accounts of his exploits far from the forests of the north-central states. It is said that when he was once dredging out the Columbia River, he broke the dredge, and, sticking it into his pocket, walked

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STEWART & WATT: Legends ofPaul Bunyan to the nearest blacksmith shop in South Dakota, had it repaired, and returned to the Oregon camp before dark. Besides his blue ox Bunyan had, according to some versions, so many oxen that their yokes, piled up, made twenty cords of wood. One day he drove all of these animals through a hollow tree which had fallen across a great ravine. When he reached the other side, he found that several of the oxen had disappeared, and, returning, he discovered that they had strayed into a hollow limb. Occasionally one hears some account of Paul Bunyan's boyhood exploits on his father's farm. It is said that on one occasion he and his father went out to gather a huge watermelon which was growing on a sidehill above a railroad track. They carelessly forgot to prop the melon up before they severed the stem with a cross-cut saw, and as a result it broke loose, rolled down hill, burst open on striking the rails, and washed out two hundred feet of track. This tale and similar ones do not seem to belong strictly to the Bunyan cycle, but to be, rather, like the animal fables, mere appendages. What is there in these exaggerated tales of interest to the student of literature? We believe, first, that, crude as they are, they reveal unmistakable indications of having grown up under the same principles of literary development which produced by a slow process legend-cycles much more romantic and famous. The tendency to group the tales about one hero is universal in legend, as is illustrated by the Arthurian and Robin Hood cycles, and less completely by the folk tales of Rubezahl, the spirit of the Riesengebirge of Germany, Puck, or Robin Goodfellow, and the strong man, Tom Hickathrift, of England. Moreover, like other legend groups, the Bunyan stories tend to be concerned with a single locality, Round River or Big Onion River. Finally, many of the legends are more less closely connected with a single exploit, the clearing of the pyramid forty, in much the same way, to compare the little with the great, that Greek legends center in the Argonautic Expedition and the Trojan War, and Arthurian legends in the search for the Holy Grail. Of more interest, however, is the remarkable quality of the exaggeration in the Bunyan legends. This quality is worth analysis not only because it shows universal tendencies, but because it is the basis of what has come to be known as American humor. The tendency in all legend is to exaggerate, to make the physical strength or craft of the hero much greater than normal, to make an Ajax or an Odysseus of him. But in classical romance and epic this exaggeration is a thing of slow growth. It happens naturally, through a desire to make the deeds of the hero seem more wonderful, and not deliberately, through a desire to arouse amusement by gross exaggeration; it is an apotheosis, not caricature. The exaggeration in the legends of Paul Bunyan is certainly of a different sort from that in classical legend; it is more Munchausenesque. The teller of the tale of the pea soup lake, and of the camp distillery, and of the great Round River drive has two motives: first, he wishes to excite wonder; second, he wishes to amuse. In their wonder-motive the Bunyan legends belong to that numerous class of travelers' tales typified by the fabulous accounts in Mandeville and Hakluyt, and in the books of other collectors. They are stories designed to be swallowed by camp followers and tenderfeet for the entertainment of hardened dwellers in the woods. In their humor-motive they belong to that large class of stories

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which depend for their effectiveness not upon true representations of facts but upon gross departures from normal standards. Humor is a difficult thing to define, but one of its important elements is certainly that surprise which comes from the sudden and unanticipated contemplation of an incongruous variation from the normal. Good taste has gradually set limits to what cultivated persons regard as legitimate humor, but the child still laughs at the drunkard and to some the abnormality of insanity is still amusing. Humor has, accordingly, very often taken the form of gross exaggeration or caricature, especially under the spur of a contest in yarning. This type of humor is typically American. It is really only a natural development of the attempt to "boom" new sections of the country by representing conditions as superior to what they actually are. It is but one aspect of the cheerful, rose-colored, but quite distorted optimism which aroused the disgust of Dickens and other Englishmen (see Martin Chuzzlewit) and has earned for Americans among Europeans, whose boom days are over, the name of braggart. It is this quality of humorous exaggeration, then, and the idea of a contest in lying, which makes the Bunyan legend cycle typically American, or, it might be better to say, typically pioneer, in spirit. And the reader does not have to look far for American parallels. Mark Twain's books are full of tales of the same stamp; Owen Wister's Virginian teems with them; lately in Harry Leon Wilson's Ruggles of Red Gap we again meet this characteristically American type of story. The note is the same throughout-gross caricature in fact and characters to arouse the wonder of the tenderfoot and to amuse the initiated by the mere bigness of the yarn. The Bunyan cycle of legends certainly contains a great many tales which sound strangely familiar to the person who meets Bunyan for the first time. It is altogether probable, in fact, that a great many of these stories had their origin elsewhere than in the woods and have simply been added to the Bunyan collection. We have been told on good authority that a legendary blue ox exists in a certain mountain district of Tennessee and that in this same district not only the men but even all the animals have short legs to adapt them to hill-climbing. The tale of the man who jumped across the river "in three jumps" is, as has been pointed out, widely distributed. Some of the Bunyan stories, on the other hand, almost certainly originated in the woods. To Professor Cairns of the Department of English at Wisconsin we are indebted for an ingenious explanation of the possible origin of the tale of the pyramid forty and its prodigious supply of timber. In the early days of lumbering in the North more than one man staked out a claim on a single forty and, ignoring section lines, cut "government pine" for miles around, securing, it was humorously reported by those who knew but winked at the robbery, a great deal of timber from one forty. This cutting of government pine appears definitely in at least one Bunyan story, the tale of the method adopted by Bunyan to payoff his crew. Excepting for stories of this sort, however, which seem distinctly confined to the lumber districts, and which would, indeed, have little reason for existing elsewhere, the majority of the Bunyan legends are very likely adaptations of tales which have elsewhere an existence in some form.

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Ghost Stories (As Told by Old Settlers) Thor Helgeson

Wisconsin's European immigrants hailed overwhelmingly from peasant communities animated by the supernatural. Kitchens, barns, crossroads, lakes, rocks, and woods were-especially at night and during seasonal transitions-the territory of ghosts, little people (fairies, leprechauns, nisse), giants, and such peculiar beasts as trolls. Sometimes hostile, they were more often simply mischievous and could be appeased with gifts of food or kept at bay with charms. Sorcerers and devils were more problematic. They might make you sick, afflict your animals, or steal your soul. Those Old World creatures bound to particular places figured mostly in the recollections of Wisconsin's newcomers. The consensus was that they hadn't found passage on trans-Atlantic ships. Ghosts, practitioners of witchcraft, and the devil (a.k.a. the "Black One," "Erik," and "Hinkarn") were for more mobile, however, and localized stories concerning their doings abounded. Thor Helgeson's "Ghost Stories," originally written in Norwegian, offers a rare glimpse of a supernaturally inclined storytelling session involving immigrants in western Waupaca County in the late nineteenth century. Some of the stories hark back to Norway, while others occur in Wisconsin, sometimes to the tellers themselves. A careful listener and gifted writer, Helgeson conveys a rich sense of the session's participants, its Row, and its inclusion of debates between skeptics and true believers. The stories themselves are alternately hilarious and sobering, and some-like those of Professor Erik and the black book-were widespread among Wisconsin's Germans (see chapter 29, "Faith and Magic," pp. 323-30). Translator Malcolm Rosholt encountered Thor Helgeson's writings in the 1950s when he began to compile a history of Waupaca County's Scandinavia and lola Townships, where all four of his great-grandparents had settled. 'When I began to work on the Helgeson translation," Rosholt explains in the introduction to his 1985 edition of Helgeson's stories, "children of the pioneers, most of them in their seventies and eighties, told me that Helgeson 'wrote too much about all that drinking and stuff,' or 'he made fun of the pioneers.' But Helgeson, an artist, was unconcerned about his critics. In modern parlance, he 'told it like it is.'" Einar Haugen, the Norwegian American linguist, had also encountered Helgeson's earthy reputation when visiting Waupaca County in 1942: He was the sexton here. He was sexton for a great many years. Now Helgeson was this way that he liked a glass of beer now and then, and when he was in good company, he might sometimes take a tiny drop too many. Then the pastor had heard about this once that he had been at a beer party and was going to give him a reprimand. But he came out with it in so strange a way. He said, "I dreamt that I was in heaven," he said, "and there I went into the house that was prepared for sextons," he said, "and there they were carrying on something awful. They weren't decent at all, and they were loud-mouthed and they had stuff to drink there, and they weren't decent at all." "Is that so," said Helgeson. 'Well, I also dreamt," said he, "that Iwas in heaven, and went into the room that was prepared for the pastors. But there

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Part Two. Storytelling I didn't find a single pastor" (The University Press, 1969], 497).

Norwegian Language in America [Bloomington: Indiana

Einar Haugen subsequently fashioned a biography of Helgeson from interviews with old-timers like John Barikmo, the source of the prior anecdote, and researches into the Norwegian American press. Born September 29,1842, in the township of Tinn, Norway, the son ofa farmer and logger, Thor Helgeson trained to be a teacher before emigrating to America in 1862. After stays of a year each in the Norwegian settlements of Muskego and Koshkonong, he settled in the Portage and Waupaca County area in 1863, where he taught in Lutheran schools and wrote until his death on May 5, 1928. Besides its account of "Ghost Stories," Helgeson's Fro Indianernes Lande is laden with anecdotes and accounts of such customary activities as weddings, Christmas celebrations, husking bees, ladies aid society meetings, and house parties. But supernatural tales were clearly one of the immigrant schoolmaster's passions. Barikmo, a former student, informed Einar Haugen that Helgeson often told his charges "tales of ghosts and trolls from Norway until they were afraid to go to bed." No doubt some were included in Folksagn og folketro (Folktales and Folk Beliefs), which Helgeson published in 1923. That same year Waldemar Ager, editor of Eau Claire's Norwegianlanguage newspaper Reform, lauded Helgeson as "the P. C. Asbjornsen of the Norwegians in America," in reference to a prominent Norwegian folklorist who, with Jorgen Moe, published the classic collection of Norwegian folktales in 1842 (see Einar Haugen, "Thor Helgeson: Schoolmaster and Raconteur," Norwegian-American Studies 24 [1970]: 3-27; for an overview of Norwegian legendry and many stories paralleling those Helgeson presents, see Reidar Christiansen, Folktales of Norway [Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1964]). Reprinted from Thor Helgeson, From the Indian Land (lola, Wise.: Krause Publications, 1985), 257-60, translated and annotated by Malcolm Rosholt from Helgeson's originals, Fra Indianernes Lande (From the Indian Land) (1915), and Fra Indianernes Lande: Den Anden Sam/ing

(From the Indian Land: A Second Collection) (1917).

I do not recall what occasion brought so many people together at K's (Christian Christianson Thoe), nevertheless, it was a big company. The men talked first about the wind and weather, and then about the wheat crop, wheat prices, stock for butchering and timber dealings. When these topics, which are so interesting to farmers, were exhausted, they gradually began to talk about other events about trolls, elves, fairies and ghosts. Many of the older pioneers still believed in the power of the underground folk and all that was said about them as sure as God's truth. But others believed they were nothing but nonsense. It was the opinion of some people that the progress and education of the 19th century had scared both the trolls and elves so far into the ground that they never dared show themselves again. It was during the period of the lack of enlightenment that people believed these dark spirits had power to rule on earth. Now days it is people, not trolls or goblins who rule the earth. Our fathers and forefathers, Ola began, have always imagined that these trolls, goblins and other supernatural devilishness actually existed and that people had seen them or others had seen or heard them. As for me I have never seen a troll or a goblin or a ghost, and what's more, I don't believe in them, not a word. Neither do I, said Gregar (Holla, Jr.). The only ghost I ever saw was something that appeared near Granbera's corners in Scandinavia (in Waupaca County, Wisconsin). There I saw a man clad only in a shirt, glaring at the moon. But even as I stood and watched him, the man turned into a popple stump.

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15.1. Trollodin, who dwells behind Mount Horeb's Open House Imports, wanders the "troll way" business district during the village's annual Fall Fest, 1992. Photo: James P. Leary, Wisconsin Folk Museum Collection.

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So-o! You don't believe in these underground creatures and ghosts? said Per, who held strong beliefs on the subject. Perhaps you have seen some of them, said Ola, who was one of the doubters. Well, I haven't seen much, but there are people living here who have both seen and heard such things and they are honest and law-abiding people who neither lie nor cheat, said Per, a bit impatient with the doubter. Tell us then, shouted the others. That I can, if I want to, said Per, and after he had stuffed his black clay pipe, he began to explain, in confidential tones, all about the ghosts on the Opsal farm in Norway. In Gausdal of Gudbrandsdalen, Per began, there was a place called Opsal farm. Here a terrible commotion once occurred with the ghost and which no one could understand or fathom, because big boulders rolled into the fireplace chimney and both large and small stones came flying in as if they had been thrown through the window panes of the hut. Wood in the fire place was thrown across the floor while pots and pans and such things were scattered into the comers. There were many explanations given for this strange event and it led. to a religious revival in the whole of Gausdal, Per continued. Some said that the mountain trolls were on the loose and some thought that the people living on Opsal had provoked the underground people. Others thought that the Black One himself and his equally black followers were out to do mischief. But what they could not understand was why the devil should pass up the big estates instead of living in a forlorn tenant farmer's house. The pastor of Gausdal, Andreas Jorgen Fleischer, was called in. Although big and broad as he was, he was no match for the Black One, that's for sure. For by now the Black One had gotten such a foothold in the house that the people had to send word to the pastor in Faaberg to get rid of him. And if the Faaberg pastor couldn't put wings on him, then no one else could, said Fleischer. Well sir, they sent word to Pastor Rasmus Lygn at Faaberg, a man with a red hand and a red foot. He was not slow in coming and as soon as he arrived in the house, he took a piece of chalk and wrote several doodlings on the wall which neither Fleischer nor anyone else could read. By this device he sent the devil and all his works straight out of the community. And you can be sure they never came back to Opsal again. Pastor Lygn was just the man to effect this housecleaning. He had studied at the school of magic in Wittenberg, Germany, and could read the Black Book forward and backward. If a student wished to become a pastor of any influence in olden times, he had to matriculate in this school at Wittenberg and take his examination there. There were always 12 students in the school. When they had taken their examination, 11 were permitted to leave, but the twelfth one Professor Erik kept as an assistant. The students drew straws to see who was to become Erik's boy. At the time Pastor Lygn took his examination in black magic, they also drew straws and it fell to Lygn to serve as Erik's boy. But Lygn was on to him, you can bet your boots. He was so learned and experienced in the black arts that he fooled Erik into taking his shadow. People therefore said that the Faaberg pastor didn't have a shadow or second self. But that was not true because I saw very clearly that he cast a shadow both

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HELGESON: Ghost Stories in sunshine and in moonshine. But perhaps he had fooled Erik into getting his shadow back again. Who knows? Let me see now. How did it go with that man who was standing in his shirt and turned into a popple stump, Cregar? Well, this story is soon told because it's a short one, said Cregar. Christian, a neighbor boy, was often plagued with colic and one day he was so severely stricken that he lay on the floor and twisted like a snake on an ant hill. A member of his family came to me and asked if I would run down to Cranbera's store after a quart of brandy. They had to give Christian something strong, they said, I was young and fleet of foot as a deer and it did not take long before I was at Madam Cranbera's. I got the brandy all right and was about to leave except that there were some men in the place who were drinking and telling ghost stories. I had to listen and became so interested that I completely forgot both Christian and his colic. When I saw that the sun was setting, I remembered my errand and galloped back as fast as I could. The road went entirely different at that time as it was laid out along Coat Back Ridge (Cjeiteryggen) and crossed a valley. The moon came up big and beautiful and the tree stumps stood out all around. When I came down in the valley and was about to climb the north hill I saw on top of the hill a man clad only in a shirt. There he stood and twisted this way and that and gazed at the moon. He came at me. A young boy is easily scared and when I recalled all these stories I had just heard about ghosts and other evil powers, I became even more frightened. Hah! I thought Christian is already dead because I did not get the brandy to him in time and now he is out spooking me. The more I looked at the figure, the worse it became. At last I stood on my knees in the middle of the road and read the Lord's Prayer. After that I became a little more daring and went forward, step by step, until I saw what kind of a spook it was-another popple stump! The bark had peeled on one side so that it turned in the moonlight. When I finally arrived back, Christian had already recovered. The brandy came too late, to be sure, but Christian felt that it could do no harm to "smear" one's insides with a brandy punch just the same. This might even keep the colic from coming back. So he "smeared" himself and gave some to the others. Matias Bergshaugen continued with the story telling. He was an upright man and no one ever doubted his word on anything. It happened one fall, Matias began, that I and some other lumberjacks were in the woods building a logging camp. I remember it as well as if it happened today. We finished with the work on Thursday night, and we had just finished our evening meal and were sitting by the stove with our clay pipes and telling stories, when all at once we heard a noise and a rumbling like a strong thunderbolt. We got up from our chairs and rushed out together. Every single window which we had installed that day had fallen out and there they all lay in a row on the ground. It was a cold, starfilled night without a cloud in the sky. There was no thundering. But what was it anyway? Can anyone really tell me? A deep silence filled the house. No one could answer Matias' question, and the others sat there dumbfounded and speechless.

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Per was the first to be heard from. He listened to Bergshaugen's story with attention, just as if he had been listening to a festival sermon. Many strange things can happen in this sinful world, he said. I remember a story I heard many years ago. Something happened in a small village on the Mississippi River which people are still wondering about. The name of the village was ... well, I can't think of it now. It's bad when one becomes so forgetful. But it is all the same with the name. At the time this village was established, a prominent family came there and purchased an entire block of land on which a store was built, an extremely handsome brick building. How this family lived and what they lived off no one ever learned for they had nothing to do with other people. But they had everything, you understand, and they remained there many years. But one fine day the entire family left town just as if they had blown away. After this beautiful building remained empty for many years, it was examined by some folks who wished to live in it. They took it over and shortly later moved out as fast as they moved in. There were so many strange noises and spooking in the building that neither people nor tramps could live there. But one does not have to travel to the Mississippi to find spooks, said Bergshaugen. You can find them much closer to home. Several miles south of Waupaca there was something like this on a Yankee farm where people were obliged to leave both home and farm. Nobody could live there and the farm has been a wilderness for many years. Well, now, was it not like that over there by Iver Naes' place? asked one of the others. We don't need to go to Waupaca to hear such stories. There was no doubt some spooking at Naes', I am sure. There, night after night, people saw two men, one big, one small. The big one had on a high hat, or at least it seemed that way because he could make himself big or little according to his wishes. From the high hat came a flame of fire which reached way over to Ovald Person's place. It was, I tell you, a terrible spook. Now let me tell you another one. It wasn't so free of spooks down there at Hans Jacob Eliason's place in Scandinavia either. One evening in the fall some loafers came to Hans Jacob with a jug of whisky and a deck of cards and they sat down for a game and some heavy drinking. But at the height of the game they heard a rumbling sound which got them to their feet in a jiffy. The card sharks let Hans Jacob keep both the jug and deck of cards and they beat it home as fast as they had learned to run. One evening Anne Kjendalen, wife of Anders in Scandinavia, came from the village at twilight. Just as she approached the gate into the yard, she saw a big, ugly looking tramp sitting on the fence near the gate post. She jumped, naturally, although she was not so frightened that she could not say "good evening" to him. He did not say a word before he disappeared into the ground. Now Per took up the story telling. We all know Tobias (Cuto of Helvetia Township), he said. That Tobias is a "seer" because he often sees things that others can not see. And he is an upright man who never fools around with nonsense of any kind. One day when Tobias came home from the village it was snowing a little and

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HELGESON: Ghost Stories it became difficult to see even the footprints of others who had gone ahead. When he reached Flaatbakken, he saw a small chap who trotted up the hill, dodging in and out. Tobias thought this was one of Jacob's boys (probably Jacob Fjeldbo) who was lost, and Tobias hurried along to learn what he was up to. But to catch up? That was impossible! The little chap disappeared right in front of Tobias' nose. Tobias then went back to see whether he could pickup his tracks in the snow but found no tracks other than his own big clod hoppers. Then there was another evening that Tobias had been visiting at Paul Barlundstuen and was on his way home. When he reached the north side of Valbergbakken (Valberg Hill) which lies just north of the farm where old Captain Sivertson once lived, he met Gunnar Valberget in his workaday clothes and ax on his shoulder. Gunnar was dead. He had died suddenly but did not die by his own hand as some have been yacking about. We have heard the same about Ovald's-Ingeborg (Mrs. Ovald Person) said Matias Bergshaugen, taking up the thread again. She died suddenly and no one knew what she died of. There were lots of questions asked. On one occasion after Ingeborg was put in the ground some people from New Hope came to visit Ovald. On their return home they were crossing Ovaldsbakken where they met Ingeborg right in the middle of the hill. She was in her ordinary house dress just as in life. A farm in New Hope was also supposed to be spooked. But one man in the township swore that the whole story about ghosts on this farm was just plain nonsense and a story hatched at a coffee clutch [sic]. But he would not deny that there were ghosts in Prestejonbakken (Preacher Jon's Hill) because people had seen a headless man there. But he really could not understand why the spooks should be chasing after Preacher Jon all the time. It often happens that people frighten themselves, remarked one of the company. It is usually in the evening or during the night that they see spooks. When they see something they can't make out they at once take it for a ghost. They scare themselves, at least for the most part. The first resident pastor on the Indian Land was Pastor Duus. His wife was named Sophie. I believe that everyone remembers this kind pastor's family, especially Mrs. Duus because she was as kind as the day was long. She died in the Scandinavia parsonage and lies buried in the cemetery there. If I remember correctly, it was the same evening she died that somebody saw a beautiful white ghost in the neighborhood of the parsonage. It flew past the house and toward the cemetery. You can imagine how bug-eyed people became when they saw this beautiful apparition which they took for a good angel sent down to take the kindly Mrs. Duus home. But this good angel was none other than the pastor's good neighbor, Christian who, in a long, white summer coat, was strolling over to see his old friend Jens Hellom north of the cemetery. You can imagine how Olson laughed and enjoyed himself when he learned that he had been taken for an angel. "Yes, to be sure, they saw a beautiful angel that time," he said. Many years ago there lived an Englishman over by the range line (lola-Helvetia)

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named John Wolf, one of the story tellers related. One evening when he came home from town he found his wife sitting in a corner as confused as a scared chicken. "What's happened to you and why are you sitting like that?" asked John. "The devil has been here. I don't dare be alone any more," said the woman. "Do you want nle to believe that? What did he want here? It's some other terrible person you've seen, perhaps an Indian." "No! Never! The Black One himself has been here," said the woman, sticking to her story. "What did he look like?" "Oh, he was so black and ugly I can scarcely describe him," said the woman. "He had feet as big as half that stove there. One head was like a small haycock and when he glared at me, one was bright as a hot ember in his throat because he had only one eye as far as I could see. On his fingers he had long, wide claws which I clearly saw when he warmed his hands over the stove. It was the devil and no one else." John sat and thought about this for a time and burst into laughter. "Now I know what kind of a man you saw. It was the old girl on the farm north of us. She goes and herds the cattle about the marshes here. When it's as cold as it is today, she puts on all the rags she owns and covers her head with all kinds of scarves. I've seen her several times in that habit and she also has only one eye." But the woman would not give in. "No sir-e-e! It was the devil," she said. "From now on you will have to remain at home, John, and if you go away, you will have to take me along because it's the man and not the devil who must care for a woman." Matias Bergshaugen urged the story teller to continue and he began: Ola and Matias Hoyord one time returned from the cedar swamp where they had been making repairs to their shanty, I think. It was winter and uncommonly cold, too. Now Ole had bought himself a newfangled winter cap with a flap which could be lowered over the face against wind and weather. Matias was driving the horses. On the road they met Old Nils who was driving to Benson Corners, too. When Nils could not see Ola's face, which resembled a coal-black dot, he thought at once it was Hinkarn, who was out on the prowl. He glared at the dark figure and drove off the road as far as he could because he did not wish to form any closer liaison with Hinkarn. As soon as he drove past, he lay to the horses and galloped towards Benson Comers. He came into the store almost scared out of his wits and said, "Boy! Today I've really seen an awful sight-something awful, I tell yah!" "What kind of a sight?" someone asked. "Believe it or not, if I can understand it myself. Matias Hoyord drove over the devil today because he drove up to a figure with a face as black as a kettle," said Nils. One winter night, Ola continued, Jens Hellom returned from Scandinavia where he had been on a spree. When he came to the cemetery he saw a black shadow crawling on all fours along the cemetery fence. When Hellom moved, the shadow moved and when Hellom stopped the shadow also stopped. Hellom became frightened, for now he was quite certain that he was being followed by Hinkarn. He started

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to run but stumbled in a snow bank. The shadow also began to run and ran ahead while Hellom dug himself out of the snow. The scare had a sobering influence on him and when he finally returned home he vowed that he had run a race with that black pig of his. At this time Hellom had a blacksmith shop and every Sunday night he could be heard puffing and pounding until all hours. Johan Hartvig, his brother-in-law and neighbor, was tired of listening to this everlasting blacksmithing on Sunday. But to talk to Hellom about Sunday as a day of rest was the same as trying to drown a fish. One Sunday evening Hartvig hid himself back of a bush west of the blacksmith shop and threw one snowball after the other at the wall of the shop. This seemed to frighten Hellom as he hurried down to his house as fast as he could and after that day there was no more Sunday blacksmithing. Well, it's true, we hear quite a bit about spooks here in America too, said Ola, but in Norway it was much worse with such foolishness. For there one could find Jutal (dwarfs), Bergtroll, (mountain trolls), and Bergkjaerring (troll women) in every mountain top; Nisse (elves) or Hulder (hill siren with long, cowlike tail) in every brush; and Skromt (spooks) in every other cemetery. But, as I said, I don't believe much in these old stories. If anyone saw anything unnatural, it was either an illusion or the devil himself, for this person could reveal himself in all kinds of shapes. But for the most part people scared themselves. That's what I think. In Brunkeberg in Telemark one time a wedding was being held on an estate which lay about a forty from the church. Shortly before the bridal couple was to return home, the musician got into an argument wi th the bridegroom, took his fiddle and left. He was so drunk he did not know where he was going and finally tumbled into the mortuary under the church. There he sat down on a coffin and started to play so hard it could be heard far and wide. Wedding guests and others who went by the church took to their heels because they thought for sure that Erik was playing for the important people laid to rest there. For in olden times it was a fact that prominent people had to be buried under the church floor. They naturally could not sleep together with the peasants and cotters out in the cemetery. That's the way things were then. Some time later these good Brunkebergers discovered that it was their own fiddler who had played for the dead under Brunkeberg's church. A boy working in Selemdal forest went to town one day, Ola continued. On his way home he caught sight of a big black shadow approaching him as he entered the forest. Everything was so dark he could not see what it was. Without saying a word the shadow threw itself on the sleigh by his side. The boy thought he had Erik himself on board, lay to the horses and drove like the wind to the first farm in Selemdal forest. There the horses stopped dead because they could not run any further. Then the black shadow got off and thanked the boy for the ride. It was only a simpleminded girl who habitually wore many layers of rags and other clothes. She often wandered about the roads catching free rides with anyone going to or from the village. Well, you can say what you want to, you can't convince me that these mountain trolls don't exist, said Per. I'll tell you a story which I know to be true because honest

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people have repeated it to me. In Valdris there was once a family who had some of these mountain trolls for neighbors. It happened often that the troll women came to the Valdris woman to borrow this and that which the underground people had use for, and the Valdris family was always in good standing with the trolls and no harm came to them, you understand. These unseen .hill trolls helped the family and they enjoyed greater riches year after year. Later, these Valdris people thought they could do even better for themselves in America, and came over here to settle in a Norwegian community near Manitowoc. When they had lived here a number of years it happened one day that a strange woman came to the door of this particular Valdris family and asked the woman if she might borrow a spinning wheel. "But where are you from? asked the Valdris woman. "Oh, that I can tell you. I live over there in the next hill. Don't you recognize me?" said the troll woman, for it was she. "No," said the Valdris woman. "We knew each other in Norway quite well, for there we were neighbors and now I am here in America." said the troll woman. "Yes, it does seem like I've seen you before, but I can't quite recall your name. When did you come?" "We came to America this spring. We had to leave because when they began to build a new road, there was so much commotion and blasting that the mountain shook. We could not live there any longer, but if you will loan me your spinning wheel, you would be very kind," said the troll woman. The troll woman took the spinning wheel and also brought it back later. But after that day no one has seen anything of the hill people in the Norwegian settlement near Manitowoc. They are probably all dead. I thought a troll woman and all these underground creatures could live to a couple hundred years, according to what some people say, said Ola with a wink at the others. It makes no difference to me what you unbelievers think, said Per. I shall tell you of another incident about the underground people and it makes no difference whether you believe it or not because I know it to be a fact. In Valdris valley in Norway there lived a man called Anders Kjos. When he was about to build a barn on his farm there arose a terrible racket and the higher the building got, the worse the noise got. One morning, just as it was getting light, two beautiful young girls came to Anders and said "You're building a barn but it's in the wrong place, for it stands directly over our house and we have no peace when we eat. If you will build it a few rods farther west, I think they said, you will trouble us no longer, and we will stop troubling you." The bam was moved and since that day no one has seen any underground people at the Kjos place.

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16

Gamroth the Strong Harriet Pawlowska

legends celebrating great strength are common in rural and industrial settings and, not surprisingly, they flourish in Wisconsin. Indeed farm and factory hands, particularly when they are members of new immigrant groups at the bottom of the economic ladder, are often stereotyped by outsiders as being "all brawn and no brain," or "strong but stupid," or "having a size 52 shirt and a size 2 hat." But insiders typically regard them as gentle, playful, helpful fellows possessing awesome power. In the summer of 1975, Jerry Booth of Bruce told me of Sylvester "Syl" Urmanski, part of a contingent of Polish immigrant farmers in western Rusk County, who could easily heft laden oil barrels. Once his grain wagon broke down on a railroad crossing. With a train coming and the horses unable to pull the wagon free, Urmanski put his shoulder to the load and averted disaster. In 1979, while doing neldwork with traditional musicians in the Ashland area, Imet a stout Norwegian guitarist and hymnsinger, George Dybedal, who was reputed to have rigged a special harness that nt around his shoulders and a pony's belly. Standing on his barn's second level, just over the horse stall, he did deep kneebends and hefted the beast from the floor. In 1984, when Itaught my Folklore of Wisconsin class for the nrst time at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, a Milwaukee student told me about "Crusher" lisowski, a gravel-voiced professional wrestler whom I had admired during my own grappling career. Apparently the Crusher's favorite training method was to get a keg of beer from a neighborhood tavern, toss it on his back, jog to the shores of lake Michigan, drink the keg, then weave back with the empty. In the early decades of this century, while growing up in Oconto County, Mary Agnes Starr heard a whole cycle of strongman tales from Claude Nicholas, a former lumberjack. They concerned a French Canadian farmer-logger louis Cyr: "According to Claude Nicholas and many other lumberjacks and old lumbermen, the name of Paul Bunyan as a Badger state woods hero was unknown in Wisconsin lumber camps prior to the turn of the century.... Many an old FrenchCanadian-American lumberjack who could not recall a single Paul Bunyan tale could go on at length about louis (looie) Cyr. They invariably ended with the phrase, 'He didn't know his own strength'" (Mary Agnes Starr, Pea Soup and Johnny Cake [Madison: Red Mountain Publishing, 1981],35). Albert Gamroth, the Silesian strongman, was similarly acclaimed among fellow Trempealeau County immigrants. The stories of Gamroth were recorded by Harriet Pawlowska. Hailing from Detroit's Polonia, Pawlowska was a student of folklorist Emelyn Gardner at Wayne State University when, from 1939 to 1941, she undertook neldwork in Hamtrammack that resulted in the finest extant collection of Polish American folksongs, Merrily We Sing: 705 Polish Folksongs (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1961). From 1946 to 1947, Pawlowska worked on a survey of Polish culture in Trempealeau County under the direction of Edmund Zawacki of the University of Wisconsin's Department of Slavic languages. Photographs and scores of ethnographic questionnaires from the unpublished survey form part of the archival collections of the State Historical

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16.1. Mrs. Thomas Walek at her Friday morning baking with an outdoor oven, or wielok, holding fifteen to sixteen two-pound loaves of rye bread ordered by her Polish American neigbbors, Independence, 1947. State Historical So4. Whiteford, Andrew Hunter, and Nora Rogers. 1994. "Woven Mats of the Western Great Lakes." American Indian Art Magazine 19:3. 58-65.

Folk Arts and Crafts: Finns Abell, Alma. 1948. "Finns in Douglas County." School Arts 47:7.244--45. Birchbark baskets, carding and spinning. Renken, Arlene. 1986. "Symbolic Ethnicity in the Rag Rug Weaving Craft of FinnishAmericans." Madison: University of Wisconsin, Ph.D. dissertation in curriculum and instruction.

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Further Reading: A Selected List

Folk Arts and Crafts: Hmong Cubbs, Joanne. 1986. Hmong Art: Tradition and Change. Sheboygan, Wise.: John Michael Kohler Arts Center.

Folk Arts and Crafts: Norwegians Alexander, Martha. 1984. "Norwegian Nineteenth Century Material Heritage in Stoughton, Wisconsin," Wisconsin Academy Review 30:2. 31-33. Anderson, Kristin M. 1985. "Per Lysne, Immigrant Rosemaler." Minneapolis: University of Minnesota, Ph.D. thesis in art history. Anderson, Kristin M. 1994. "Altars in the Norwegian-American Church: An Opportunity for Folk Expression," in Nelson 1994. 199-226. Bohn, Tora. 1956. "Norwegian Folk Art in America," Norwegian American Studies and Records 9. 62-88. Colburn, Carol. 1990. "Immigrant Handweaving in the Upper Midwest," in Norwegian Immigrant Clothing and Textiles, ed. Catherine Cole. Edmonton, Alberta: Prairie Costume Society. 43-64. Colburn, Carol. 1994. "Well, I Wondered When I Saw You, What All These New Clothes Meant," in Nelson 1994. 118-55. Colburn, Carol. 1995. "Norwegian Folk Dress in America," in Nelson 1995. 157-69. Ellingsgard, Nils. 1993. Norwegian Rose Painting in America. Decorah, Iowa: Vesterheim. Ellingsgard, Nils. 1995. "Rosemaling: a Folk Art in Migration," in Nelson 1995. 190-94. Gilbertson, Donald E., and James F. Richards, Jr. 1975. A Treasury ofNorwegian Folk Art in America. Osseo, Wise.: Tin Chicken Antiques. Haugen, Einar. 1947-1948. "A Norwegian Calendar Stick in Wisconsin," Wisconsin Magazine of History 31. 145-67. Henning, Darrell, Marion John Nelson, and Roger L. Welsch, eds. 1978. NorwegianAmerican Wood Carving ofthe Upper Midwest. Decorah, Iowa: Vesterheim. Hibbard, Carlin. 1994. "S. O. Lund, A Community Artist from Norway," in Nelson 1994. 176-98. Lovoll, Odd S. 1995. "Emigration and Settlement Patterns as They Relate to the Migration of Norwegian Folk Art," in Nelson 1995. 125-32. Martin, Philip. 1989. Rosemaling in the Upper Midwest. Mount Horeb, Wise.: Wisconsin Folk Museum. Nelson, Marion John. 1976. "Folk Art among the Norwegians in America," in Norwegian Influence on the Upper Midwest, ed. Harald S. Naess. Duluth: Continuing Education and Extension, University of Minnesota-Duluth. 71-92. Nelson, Marion John. 1978. "Norwegian-American Woodcarving in Historic and Aesthetic Context," in Henning, et aI., eds., 1978. 12-20. Nelson, Marion John. 1989. Norway in America. Decorah, Iowa: Vesterheim. Nelson, Marion John. 1994. Material Culture and People's Art Among the Norwegians in America. Northfield, Minnesota: Norwegian-American Historical Association. Nelson, Marion John. 1995. Norwegian Folk Art: The Migration of a Tradition. New York: Abbeville Press. Smedal, Elaine, and Anne Tressler. 1948. Norwegian Design in Wisconsin: A Portfolio ofSerigraphs. Madison: Campus Publications, University of Wisconsin.

520

Further Reading: A Selected List

Folk Arts and Crafts: Occupational and Domestic Traditions Garthwaite, Chester. 1990. Threshing Days: The Farm Paintings ofLavern Kammerude, with an introduction by James P. Leary Mount Horeb, Wise.: Wisconsin Folk Museum. Nickels, Pat L. 1991. "Mary McElwain: Quilter and Quilt Businesswoman," Uncoverings 12 98-117. Shackelford, Sandra. 1996. "Grand Duke of the Hobos," Voyageur: Northeast Wisconsin Historical Review 13: 1. 4-13. Adolph Vandertie, Green Bay whittIer. Vandertie, Adolph and Patrick Spielman. 1995. Hobo and Tramp Art Carving: An Authentic American Folk Tradition. New York: Sterling.

Foodways Allen, Terese. 1995. Wisconsin Food Festivals. Amherst, Wise.: Amherst Press. Conlin, Joseph R. 1979. "Old Boy, Did You Get Enough Pie?: A Social History of Food in Logging Camps." Journal of Forest History 23:4. 164--85. Hachten, Harva. 1981. The Flavor of Wisconsin. Madison: State Historical Society of Wisconsin. Jenks, Albert E. 1902. "The Wild-Rice Gatherers of the Upper Lakes: A Study in American Primitive Economics," 19th Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology, 1900. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution. 1013-37. Schuette, H. A., and Sybil C. Schuette. 1935. "Maple Sugar: A Bibliography of Early Records," Transactions ofthe Wisconsin Academy ofScience 29. 209-36. Stuttgen, Joanne Raetz. 1993. Cafe Wisconsin: a Guide to Wisconsins Down Home Cafes. Minocqua, Wise.: Heartland Press. Vennum, Thomas, Jr. 1988. Wild Rice and the Ojibway People. St. Paul: Minnesota Historical Society Press.

521

FURTHER LISTENING AND VIEWING: A SELECTED LIST

Documentary Sound Recordings Accordions in the Cutover: Field Recordings From Lake Superior's South Shore, produced by James P. Leary (Ashland and Mount Horeb, Wisc.: Northland College and Wisconsin Folklife Center), double LP with booklet. Includes performances from the late 1970s and early 1980s by Croatian, Czech, Finnish, Norwegian, Polish, Slovak, and Swedish instrumentalists and singers from northern Wisconsin and the western Upper Peninsula of Michigan. Ach Ya! Traditional German-American Music from Wisconsin, co-produced by Philip Martin and James P. Leary (Mount Horeb, Wisc.: Wisconsin Folklife Center), double LP FVF 301, with liner notes. Field recordings from the mid-1980s, and reissues of earlier commercial and field recordings by a broad range of the state's German-American performers. Across the Fields: Traditional Norwegian-American Music from Wisconsin, produced by Philip Martin (Mount Horeb; Wisc.: Wisconsin Folklife Center), LP and cassette FVF 201, with liner/insert notes. Field and studio recordings from the late 1970s and early 1980s, with an emphasis on instrumental dance tunes performed on fiddle and button accordion. American Warriors: Songs for Indian Veterans, coproduced by Thomas Vennum, Jr. and Mickey Hart (Salem, Mass.: Rykodisk), compact disk RCD 10370, with booklet insert. Field recordings of honor songs, most from the mid-1990s, commemorating the participation of American Indians in America's wars; includes performances by Ho-Chunk (Winnebago), Menominee, and Ojibwe singers from Wisconsin. Deep Polka: Dance Music from the Midwest, produced by Richard March (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Folkways), compact disc SFCD 40088, with booklet insert. Studio recordings from the 1990s by Wisconsin bands in Croatian, Czech, Finnish, German, Norwegian, Polish, and Slovenian polka traditions. Down Home Dairyland, coproduced by James P. Leary and Richard March (Madison: University of Wisconsin Extension), forty half-hour radio programs on twenty cassettes, with accompanying 230-page book by Leary and March. Each program combines commentary, interviews with performers, and commercial and field recordings of Wisconsin and Upper Midwestern traditional and ethnic music. Programs include: "The Many Forms ofWisconsin Indian Music," "Woodland Indian Fiddles and Jigs," "The Tunes of String and Bow,"

522

Further Listening and Viewing: A Selected List

"Couderay Jig in the Buckhorn," "Wendy Whitford: The Soul of Wisconsin's Country Music," "The Goose Island Ramblers," "Wisconsin's Ethnic Country Music," "Snow Country Hillbillies:" "Northern Country Music," "German-American Music in Wisconsin," "Ach }a! The Syl Groeschl Story," "Music Before Milking: The Very Musical Brueggen Family," "The Minnesota Dutchmen," "Humorous Scandinavian Dialect Songs," "Ole in Dairyland:" "Scandinavian Ethnic Humor," "Finnish-American Music in Superiorland," "Green Fields of Wisconsin: Irish Music in the Badger State," "From Masopust to Cesky Den:" Czech and Slovak Music in Wisconsin, "The Manitowoc Bohemian Sound," Wallonie en Porte: Door County Belgians," "The Polish Fiddlers of Posen," "Old Time Music in Stevens Point," "Pulaski is a Polka Town," "The Tamburitza," "Sjajno More ("Shining Sea"): Tamburitza from Gary to Sheboygan," "Echoes of Slovenia," "The Milwaukee Polka," "The Hartmann-Meisner Polka Dynasty," "Old-Time Dance Music in Madison," "Swissconsin," "Women Polka Band Leaders," "Midwestern Ethnic Radio," "In Tune With Tradition: Wisconsin Instrument Builders," "The Accordions," "The Concertina," "Crying Holy Unto the Lord: Midwestern Sacred Musical Traditions," "Gospel in Wisconsin," "Borinquen Suelo Querido: Puerto Rican Music in Wisconsin," "The East in the North: Southeast Asian Music in Wisconsin," "Small Labels, Big Music," and "Saving the Sounds of Tradition." Finseth, Leonard. Scandinavian-American Old Time, produced by LeRoy Larson and Robert Andresen (Minneapolis: Banjar Records), L~ BR-1834, with liner notes. Studio recordings from the late 1970s by a Norwegian old-time fiddler from Mondovi. Folk Music from Wisconsin, produced by Helene Stratman-Thomas (Washington, D.C.: Library of Congress), LP AFS L55, with booklet. Field recordings from the 1940s of ballad and folksong singers and lumber camp instrumentalists, with an emphasis on AngloAmerican traditions. The Goose Island Ramblers, Midwest Ramblin, produced by James P. Leary (Mount Horeb, Wise.: Wisconsin Folk Museum), cassette 9001, with insert notes. Studio recording from 1990 by an eclectic "Norwegian polkabilly band" from the Madison area whose distinct regional repertoire includes old time country ballads, fiddle tunes, polkas, dialect songs, and comic novelty performances. Honor the Earth Powwow: Songs ofthe Great Lakes Indians, coproduced by Thomas Vennum, Jr. and Mickey Hart (Salem, Mass.: Rykodisc), cassette and compact disk RACS 0199 or RCD 10199, with booklet insert. Field recordings from the 1990 Honor the Earth Powwow held by Wisconsin's Lac Courte Oreilles Ojibwe, includes performances by Ho-Chunk (Winnebago), Menominee, and Ojibwe drum groups. Johnson, Bernard. It's a Mighty Pretty Waltz, produced by Thomas E. Barden (Gillingham, Wise.: Ocooch Mountain Records), LP with booklet. Studio recordings from 1983 by a Richland County Anglo-American old time fiddler whose repertoire also includes Czech and Norwegian tunes. Les Wallons d'Amerique (Wisconsin), produced by Fran90ise Lempereur (Belgium: Centre d'Action Culturelle de la Coummunaute d'Expression Francaise), LP FM 33010, with booklet in French and English. Field recordings from the 1980s of Walloon Belgian musicians and singers from northeastern Wisconsin. Polkaland Records, run by Greg Leider of Fredonia, Wisconsin, offers a broad array of performers from Wisconsin's various polka traditions. Polkaland's liner notes generally lack historical and contextual information, although the numerous reissues of Bohemian polka music by the Romy Gosz Band are commendable exceptions. Scandinavian-American Folk Dance Music, Vol. 2, produced by LeRoy Larson (Minneapolis:

523

Further Listening and Viewing: A Selected List

Banjar Records), LP BR-1830, with liner notes. Diverse performances of Wisconsin Norwegian music from the late 1970s, including the tunes of Leonard Finseth and Otto Rindlisbacher. Songs of the Chippewa, produced by Frances Densmore (Washington, D.C.: Library of Congress), LP AFS L22, with booklet. Field recordings from the 1920s made among Minnesota's Ojibwe and at Wisconsin's Lac du Flambeau reservation. Songs ofthe Menominee, Mandan and Hidatsa, produced by Frances Densmore (Washington, D.C.: Library of Congress)., LP AFS L33, with booklet. Field recordings of Menominee singers from the 1920s and 1930s that include an array of hunting, medicine, and war songs. Swissconsin My Homeland, produced by Philip Martin (Mount Horeb, Wisc.: Wisconsin Folk Museum), cassette 8801, with insert notes. Recordings of Wisconsin Swiss musicians and singers from the late 1980s, along with reissues of commercial recordings from the 1920s through the early 1960s. Tunes from the Amerika Trunk, produced by Philip Martin (Mount Horeb, Wisc.: Wisconsin Folklife Center), LP and cassette FVF 202, with liner/insert notes. Mid-1980s studio recordings of Wisconsin Norwegian-American dance musicians. The Wisconsin Patchwork, produced by Judy Rose (Madison: University of Wisconsin, Department of Continuing Education in the Arts), thirteen half-hour programs on seven cassettes, with accompanying sixty-nine-page book by James P. Leary. Based upon the 1940s field recordings of Wisconsin folk music by Helene Stratman-Thomas for the Library of Congress, the programs include: "Introduction," "Fiddlers," "Songs of the Homeland," "Putting Down Roots," "Other Instruments," "Some Lovely Old Songs," "Lumbercamps and Rivers," "Work Songs," "The Recording Process," "Ensembles," "A Mixed Bag," "Hymnody," and "A Final Program." WolfRiver Songs, produced by Sidney Robertson Cowell (New York: Folkways), LP FE 4001, with booklet. Field recordings from the early 1950s of northern Wisconsin's Ford-Walker family, whose extensive repertoire favored Anglo-Celtic and lumber camp songs.

Films and Videos The Drummaker, produced by Thomas Vennum, Jr. 1974 (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution, Office of Folklife Programs). Regarding the making of a dance drum by Lac Courte Oreilles Ojibwe drummaker Bill Bineshi Baker. The film, also available in video format, complements Vennum's monograph, The Ojibwa Dance Drum, which includes a transcription of comments made in the film by drummaker Baker. Ethel Kvalheim, Rosemaler, produced by Jocelyn Riley. 1992 (Madison: Her Own Words). A profile of Stoughton's Ethel Kvalheim, whose Norwegian folk paintings have won accolades from the King of Norway and the National Endowment for the Arts. Her Mother Before Her: Winnebago Womens Stories of Their Mothers and Grandmothers, produced by Jocelyn Riley, 1992 (Madison: Her Own Words). Medicine Fiddle, produced by Michael Loukinen. 1991 (Marquette, Mich.: Up North Films). Menominee and Ojibwe fiddlers and step dancers from the late 1980s whose eclectic metis traditions are linked to the fur trade and the lumber camps. Mountain Wolf Woman: 1884-1960, produced by Jocelyn Riley. 1990 (Madison: Her Own

524

Further Listening and Viewing: A Selected List

Words). Profile of a Ho-Chunk (Winnebago) woman, based on Nancy O. Lurie's biography, Mountain Wolf Woman. Naamikaaged: Dancer for the People, produced by Thomas Vennum, Jr. 1997 (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Office of Folklife Programs and Cultural Studies). Follows a young Ojibwe, Richard LaFernier, as he sets up his tent, honors his ancestors, dresses and paints himself, and sings at northern Wiscc>nsin powwows at Bad River and Lac Courte Oreilles. Polka from Cuca, produced by Dave Erickson. 1994 (Spring Green, Wisc.: Ootek Productions). Combines interviews, performances, and dance footage of German, Norwegian, Polish, Slovenian, and Swiss polka musicians in action in 1994 at the River View Ballroom in Sauk City and at Cheese Days in Monroe. the video also features Cuca Records, founded by Jim Kirchstein in Sauk City, for whom all the musicians recorded. Winnebago Women: Songs and Stories, produced by Jocelyn Riley. 1992 (Madison: Her Own Words). Wisconsin Powwow, produced by Thomas Vennum, Jr. 1997 (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Office of Folklife Programs and Cultural Studies). A documentary of an early 1990s powwow held by Wisconsin's Bad River Ojibwe. This production, emphasizing the participants' perspective, forms a two video package with Naamikaaged (above) and is accompanied by a 40-page booklet. Yodel: Straight from the Soul, produced by Lori Maass Vidlak. 1996. (Bennet, Neb.: Good Earth Production). Beyond western and blue yodelers, this video offers interviews and performances by Austrian and Swiss yodelers from Wisconsin.

525

INDEX

All place names are in Wisconsin unless otherwise indicated. Abrahams, Roger, 42 Addams, Jane, 21 African Americans: arts and crafts, 419, 421422; "coon songs," 200, 218, 257; jazz, 259, 284, 288; rap, 284; rhythm and blues, 284, 288; spirituals and gospel music, 16, 284-291; stereotypes, 218, 251; mentioned, 23 Ager, Waldemar, 150 Alanen, Arnold, 24, 25, 457 Alban, 451 Algoma Record-Herald, 362 Algonquians. See Woodland Indians Allen, Terese, 435 Allen, William F., 14, 15-16 Allen, William N. "Billy," 15,200 Almena, 336 Alte Kameraden, 275-276 Altenburg, Art, 269 Altman, Joe, 270 Alvarez, Barry, 11 American Anthropological Association, 307 American Dialect Society, 85 American Folklore Society, 14, 15 American Fur Company, 131 American Lumberman, The, 140 Amish, 477 Antigo, 110,219,220,221,275 Apostle Islands, 125, 258 Appleton, 14,274,276,328 Arcadia, 33 Architecture: Belgian, 25, 362, 363, 453; cannery workers, 488; commercial fishers' boats and skiffs, 457-475; Cornish, 457; farmers, 24,25,457,476; Finnish, 25, 457; German, 25,445; ice fishers' shelters, 9, 398; Kentuckian, 224; Polish, 25, 445, 448, 453; tobacco farmers' barns, 476 Arganian, Mary Jenanian, 414-417 Armenians: arts and crafts, 414-417; foodways, 415,416-417,435 Armstrong Creek, 339, 445 Arnold, Katherine, 42 Art, Bobby, 277 Arts and crafts: African American, 419, 421422; Armenian, 414-417; Belgian, 432; Dutch, 432-434; exhibits, 24-25, 407-431; farmers, 432, 476, 481; German, 410-413,

417-419,432,433; Hmong, 292; Ho-Chunk (Winnebago), 343, 433; hunting, 184; Italian, 423-425; Latvian, 425-429; Menominee, 343, 391-392; Norwegian, 25, 265, 347,408, 432, 433-434; Ojibwe, 18,24,25,310,321-322, 343, 391-392, 396-406; Polish, 358; Potawatomi, 343; "up north," 431; women's traditions, 407-431; Woodland Indian, 389-395; woods workers, 72; mentioned, 433 Asbjornson, P. C., 150 Ashland, 26,62, 123, 124, 128, 134, 135, 159, 269,270,271,273,371 Ashland County, 21 Ashton, 435, 441, 444 Auman, Angela, 279 Auman, Frank, 279 Austrians: clothing, 333; folk medicine, 331338; music, 269, 273, 276, 280, 331 Awonohopa~NepenanakwatJohnson, 191 Bachhuber, C. H., 40 Baczkowski, John, 281 Badger, Tom, 126 Badger Button Box Club, 280 Badger Folklore Society, 85 Bad River, 122, 135, 389 Bailey, Jack, 219 Bailey's Harbor, 459 Bainbridge, Delores "Dee," 17, 122-125 Baker, Bill Bineshi, 307, 389 Ballad. See Song and ballad Banai, Edward Benton, 307 Bangor, 33 Baraboo, 113 Barden, Thomas E., 352, 476 Barikmo, John, 150 Barker, Bernie, 470 Bark River, Michigan, 458, 466 Barlundstuen, Paul, 155 Barneveld, 259 Barnouw, Victor, 18, 126,307 Barrett, Samuel A., 18 Barron County, 163, 169,337,378,381,384,435 Barum, Barb, 348 Barum, Brad, 348 Bashell, Joseph, 279 Bashell, Louie, 279

526

Index Baughman, Ernest, 132, 170 Baumgartner, Adolf, 252 Bautch, Albert, 160 Bayard, Samuel, 69 Bayfield, 122, 123, 124, 125, 127, 140,397 Bayfield County, 22, 85, 178 Bay Settlement, 364 Beatty, Arthur, 16, 140, 144 Beaver Dam, 272 Behrend, David, 461, 466, 472, 473 Behrend, Ellen, 473 Bekkedahl, Martin, 483--484 Belgians (Flemings and Walloons): architecture, 25, 362, 363, 453; arts and crafts, 432; clothing, 432; commercial fishers, 457; customs, 362-366; dance, 258, 362, 364-365; dialect, 362; festivals, 362-366; foodways, 362-363, 364, 422; games, 365; legends, 453; music, 269,273,362,363-364; names, 4; shrines and sacred sites, 362, 365-366, 445, 453, 456; song, 362; mentioned, 253, 435 Beliefs: farmers, 89, 91, 103-105, 173, 174; Finnish, 176; about Green Bay Packer clothing, 7; Hmong, 296-297; Irish, 445; Menominee, 192, 343; Norwegian, 149, 157,347,445; Ojibwe, 124,128,132-134,136,311,312-313,343, 401; Polish, 445-446, 447, 448, 449; Potawatomi, 343; Swiss, 368; Woodland Indian, 33, 35,390-391,392,394. See also Customs; Festivals; Folk medicine; Legends; Shrines and sacred sites Bell, Pete Jack, 78-79 Belleville, 258 Bercovici, Konrad, 4 Berg, Erik, xiv Bergerson family, 476 Bergshaugen, Matias, 153-154, 156 Bergum, Vi, 268 Berlin, 340 Berry, Wendell, 477 Berryman, Lou, 377 Berryman, Peter, 377 Bevent, 450 Black River Falls, 113, 260 Blackwell, Billy, 125 Blair, 261, 266, 267, 346 Blanchard, Louis, 72 Blanchard, "Tough," 76 Blanchardville, 267 Blom, Kari, 267 Blom, Kevin, 267 Blom, LeRoy, 267 Blom, Lisa, 267 Blom, Mark, 267

Blue Mounds, 435 Boas, Franz, 16, 113 Boe, Dan, 183 Bohemian Brass Band, the, 273 Bohemians. See Czechs Bohrod, Aaron, 22 Bollerud, Bruce, 267 Boone, Charlie, 62 Booth, Jerry, 159, 164, 170, 174 Borusky, Pearl Jacobs, 219-250 Boulanger, Emil, 362 Bowe, Howie, 276, 277 Boyer, Helen Wieczorak, 358 Brandt, Bill, 323 Bressette, Walt, 124 Brewery workers, 80-84 Brezinski, Arlene, 450 Brezinski, Stanley, 450 Bridley, Botolf, 259 Brill, 203 Brooklyn, 259, 351 Brooks, George, 232 Brooks, Tonda LaYa, 290 Brown, Charles Edward, 26-28, 40, 42, 72, 80, 140,176,372 Brown, Dale, 289 Brown County, 362, 456 Bruce, 159 Brueggen, Brian, 277 Brueggen, Gary, 277 Brueggen family, 271 Brunvand, Jan H., 69 Brussels, 362, 365 Bryant, 221 Buckeridge, Byron, 128 Bulgarians, 253 Bundy, Jack, 49-50,276 Bunyan, Paul, 16,26,139-148, 159. See also Woods workers Bureau of Indian Affairs, 123 Burke, 435, 437 Burt, Rev. R. J., 290 Cable, 208, 319 Calkins, Charles, 362 Calumet County, 274, 276 Calumetville, 277 Cambria, 36 Cannery workers: architecture, 488; customs of the workplace, 486-492; gender roles, 488, 491; joking relationship, 488, 490--492; legends, 493--494; names, 493; occupational speech, 490, 491, 492; practical jokes, 489 Card games, xiv, 103, 154, 379, 383, 384

527

Index Carot, August, xiii, 396 Carpatho-Ruthenians, 340 Casagrande, Joseph B., 307 Casanovia, 4 Cashton, 271, 277 Cassidy, Frederic G., 27, 85 Catholic church: affects Woodland Indian culture,33,35, 122, 133,135,136-137,198, 308,319; Belgian variations of seasonal liturgy, 365-366; Czech variations of seasonal liturgy, 352, 456; foodways at church suppers, 435-444; Polish variations of seasonal liturgy, 448,453; shrines and sacred sites, 323, 362, 365-366, 445-456; mentioned, xiii, 40, 62, 124, 251, 340, 378. See also Churches Cavan, Sherri, 381 Cebar, Paul, 284 Cedarburg Cultural Center, 24, 407 Cedar Grove, 432, 434 Cesnik, Ignac, 279 Champaign, Amia, 363 Champion, 365 Champion, Alvin, 473 Chapman, Alice C., 14 Chappelle, Howard, 461, 463 Charlesburg,271 Chaseburg, 266 Chequamegon Bay, 125, 397 Chetek, 110 Child, Francis James, 15 Chilton, 277 Chippewa Falls, 7, 72, 73, 75, 78, 106,210, 271,323 Chippewas. See Ojibwe Chippewa Valley Museum, 292, 294 Chojnacki, Ray, 282 Chosa,Ben,398,399 Christmas. See Festivals Churches: affect Woodland Indian culture, 343; African Methodist Episcopal, 284-285; arts and crafts production and sales, 417, 419, 422, 425; Baptist, 36, 285, 421; Church of God in Christ, 286; Congregational, 36; Episcopal, 343; foodways at church suppers, 415, 435444; Methodist, 36, 343; Native American Church, 113; Presbyterian, 36; Swiss Reformed, 367-370. See also Catholic church; Lutheran church Civilian Conservation Corps, 21, 398 Clam Falls, 75 Clapper, Frank, 210 Clark, Michael, 486 Clark County, 279, 346 Clothing: Austrian, 333; Belgian, 432; Dutch,

432--434; farmers, 432; German, 432; Green Bay Packer regalia, 7, 13; Hmong, 298; HoChunk, 114, 116, 120; Latvian, 427, 429; Menominee, 343; Norwegian, 260, 432, 435; Ojibwe, 309, 311, 343; Potawatomi, 343, 344; Slovak, 22; Swiss, 257; "up north," 431; woods workers, 79 Cloutier, Meline, 331 Cloutier, Octave, 332, 333, 335, 336, 337 Columbia County, 62, 476 Columbus, 37-38, 487 Commercial fishers, 24, 25,123,457--475,476 Commonwealth, 176, 180 Coon, Leland, 19,234 Coon Valley, 277, 346 Cornell, 200 Cornish: architecture, 457; song, 19; mentioned, 253 Country Today, The, 433 Crafts. See Arts and crafts Crandon, 219 Crawford County, 476, 477 Crazy Otto, 276 Croatians, 273, 340 Crosby, Bing, 203 Crumble, Allie M., 409, 419, 421--422 Cultural pluralism, 3--6, 19,27,62, 70,251-253, 262-263,269-273,282,352,439 Cumberland, 331 Cunneen, Oljanna Venden, 433 Curry, John Steuart, 22 Curtis, Wardon Alan, 251, 282-283, 367 Customs: Belgian, 362-366; cannery workers, 486-492; farmers, 90, 169, 478--482, 484485; German, 377, 378, 381; Hmong, 301303; Ho-Chunk, 17; Norwegian, 150, 157, 262, 478-482, 484--485; Ojibwe, 129-130, 310,311,317-318; Polish, 162,356-361, 447,451; Swiss, 368, 369; in taverns, 377, 378, 380-381. See also Beliefs; Festivals; Funerals; Practical jokes; Weddings Cyr, Louis, 159 Czechs (Bohemians): dance, 258, 269, 270, 271, 354,362; festivals, 273, 352-355,456; folk medicine, 323; foodways, 270, 352, 353, 355, 435,436; funerals, 273; gathering, 169; legends, 435; music, 269, 270, 271, 272, 273275,282,352,354; names, 4, 362; shrines and sacred sites, 453, 456; weddings, 273, 274,381; mentioned, xiii, 163,220,253,262, 340,378,477 Dabrowski, Father J6zef, 455 Daems, Father, 364

528

Index Dahl, Pascalena Galle, 423-425 Dance: Anglo-Celtic, 268; Belgian, 258, 362, 364-365; Czech, 258, 269, 270, 271,354, 362; Dutch, 432; Finnish, 271; French, 123, 132, 163,258; Gennan, 254-256, 258, 269, 270; Ho-Chunk, 27, 197-198; Hungarian, 258,269; Irish, 163,252-253,258; Kentuckian, 227, 245-247; Menominee, 191-199; Mesquakie, 191, 192, 196; Norwegian, 258, 259, 262-264;Ojibwe, 123, 132-133, 137, 191, 195, 196, 197,317,321; Polish, 27, 258, 269, 270, 271, 339, 340-341; polka, 268-283; Scandinavian, 270, 271; Slovak, 21-22, 269270; Slovenian, 270; Swedish, 270; Swiss, 25&-258,270,368,370; in taverns, xiv, 254, 276,352,353,365,370; Woodland Indian, 18, 24, 25, 258; woods workers, 27, 163, 169, 373; Yankee, 263. See also Music; Song and tune titles Dane, 441 Dane County, 85, 445, 476 Daniels, Josephine, 343, 344 Danes: foodways, 433; stereotypes, 102 Darwin, Charles, 251 Dassel, 335 Dassow, Del, 274 Davies, Phillips, 37 Davis, John, 36 DeFoe, Diane, 125 DeFoe, Marvin, 125 DeMars, Bartholomew "Bat," 163 Denmark, 4, 456 DeNoyer, Alexander, 205, 206 DeNoyer, Emery, 200-218 Densmore, Frances, 18-19, 126, 192, 195, 196, 197 De Pere, 184 DePerry, Fred, 124, 131 DePerry, Ida Mary, 122-124 DePerry, John, 122-123 DePerry, Michel, 122 DePerry, Mike, 124, 127 DeWitz, Irving, 277, 278 DeWitz, Lucille, 278 Dialect: Belgian, 362; documentation of, 85; Finnish, 176, 181; French Canadian, 33, 72, 142; French Indian, 33; German, 4-5, 49-61, 276; Irish, 52; Italian, 4-5; Norwegian, 4-5, 49, 64, 78, 169,346,436,483; Slavic, 4-5; southern renderings of "Wisconsin," 11; Swiss, 167; in taverns, 40, 380; associated with winter, 8. See also Jokes; Occupational speech; Proverbs and proverbial phrases; Rhymes; Stereotypes Dickeyville, 323, 445, 455

Diederich, Meinrud, 441 Dixon, Agnes Hare, 371 Dobie, 163, 164, 169, 174 Dodge County, 40-41, 272, 276, 277, 323, 432,476 Dodgeville, 19,33,259 Dolan, Mike, 212-213 Dombrowski, Norm, 282, 339 Donnelly, "Red," 163 Donnelly, Tom, 174 Door County, 13, 362, 456 Dorschner, Ray, 277 Dorson, Richard M., 176 Doucette, Alfred, 75 Doucette, Marcel, 213 Drama. See Folk drama Drost, John, 174 Drummond, 25 Drzewiecki, Gary, 268 Duchow, Lawrence, 274-275,282 Duerst, Nicholas, 367 Duluth, Minnesota, 75 Duncan, John, 478, 479, 481 Duncan, Margaret, 478, 481, 485 Duncan, Newt, 348 Duncan, Phyllis, 348 Dunn, James Taylor, 331 Dutch: arts and crafts, 432-434; clothing, 432434; dance, 432; festivals, 432; names, 434; stereotypes, 62; mentioned, 253, 362, 431 Duus, Sophie, 155 Dybedal, George, 159 Dyckesvilk, 363, 365 Dyer, Harry, 20 Eagle River, 110 Earl, Tony, 13 Easterson, Cornell "Colonel," 265 Easterson, Peder "Pete," 265 Easton, 89, 94 Eau Claire, 8, 64, 73,106,139, 150,200,259, 260,266,292,293,295,298,300,371,433 Ebert, Isabel J., 200 Ebert, Marcus, 200 Ecke~o~Robert,213

Edifying Luckett Echoes, the, 288 Edlebeck, Nonn, 277 Egan, Bob, 10 Eichoff, Jurgen, 49 Eland Junction, 208 Eleva, 265 Eliason, Hans Jacob, 154 Elkhart Lake, 277 Elk Mound, 348

529

Index Ellestad, Knute, 259 Elton,221 English: Anglo-Canadian woods workers, 72; conflict with the Irish, 69-70, 168; names, 4, 343; stereotypes, 167, 168; mentioned, 253, 431 Erickson, Herman, 267 Erickson, Roger, 62 Ethnicity. See Cultural pluralism Etter, John, 367 Fairport, Michigan, 465, 466, 467,468 Fannin, Harry, 220 Farmers: architecture, 24, 25, 457, 476; arts and crafts, 432, 476, 481; beliefs, 89, 91, 103105, 173, 174; clothing, 432; customs, 90, 169,478-482,484-485; festivals, 483; Finnish, 177-179, 181; folk medicine, 103-105, 323-328; foodways, 98, 482; games, 483; German, 169,411-412,417,432; Irish, 163-175; Italian, 425; jokes, 51, 169-170, 171, 172, 483; Kentuckian, 219, 220-221; legends, 169, 173-174; music, 476; Norwegian, 89, 260262, 432, 476-485; occupational speech, 8588,89-100,479,482-483; Polish, 161-162, 339-342; proverbs and proverbial phrases, 101-103; stereotypes, 23 Farm Security Administration, 19 Faulkner, Bud, 220 Favre, Brett, 7 Feavel, John, 10 Fenton, William, 191 Ferber, Edna, 25 Festivals: Belgian Days, 362; Christmas, 162, 346-351; Corpus Christi, 453; Fourth of July, 273,367; Holland Days, 432; Jackpine Savage Days, 107; Kermiss, 362, 364-365, 367; Kilbi, 256-258, 367, 370; Maso Pust, 273, 352-355; National Folk Festival, 27, 372, 373; New Year, 292, 349; polka festivals, 272-273; powwows, 24, 25, 191; Rogation Days, 342, 365366, 448, 456; St. Joseph's Day, 439; Syttende Mai, 476; tobacco expo, 483; "up north," 110; Wisconsin Folklife Festival, 24, 284. See also Beliefs; Customs; Funerals; Smithsonian Institution (Festival of American Folklife); Weddings Feuling, Clara Morschauser, 410, 412-413, 415 Feuling, Larry, 413 Feuling, Lou Anne, 413 Fieldwork methods, 19-20, 85, 89, 91, 224-226, 260,408,477,486 Fifield, 74 Fillmore, John Comfort, 18 Finns: architecture, 25, 457; beliefs, 176; commercial fishers, 457; dance, 271; dialect, 176,

171; farmers, 177-179, 181; festivals, 346; folktales, 176-179; jokes, 176; legends, 176, 180-182; miners, 176-177; music, II, 178, 269,273; names, 4; proverbs, 182; stereotypes, 252; woods workers, 177, 181; mentioned, 253, 340 Finseth, Leonard, 266 Fischer, Edna, 325 Fischer, Ella Mittelstadt, 323-327 Fischer, Otto, 323 Fishing. See Hunting and fishing Fjeldbo, Jacob, 155 Flanum, Barbara, 280 Fleming, Tom, 371 Flemings. See Belgians Fletcher, Alice, 18 Fletcher, J. E., 17 Fliegel, Charles, 208 Florence, 180 Florence County, 176,372 Folk drama, 22, 367 Folklore Village Farm, 259 Folk medicine: Austrian, 331-338; Czech, 323; farmers, 103-105, 323-328; German, 323330; Menominee, 394-395; Ojibwe, 313-317, 394-395; Woodland Indians, 394-395 Folktales: Finnish, 176-179; Ho-Chunk, 113121; Ojibwe, 122, 131-132; scholarship, 10; tall tales, 9, 10,26,41, 131-132,336. See also Jokes; Legends; Myths Folstad, Curtis, 465, 467, 470, 471 Fond du Lac County, 276 Foodways: Armenian, 415, 416-417, 435; Belgian, 362-363, 364, 442; Czech, 270, 435, 436; Danish, 433; farmers, 98, 482; German, xiv, 3, 5, 41, 81, 254, 352, 435-444; Hmong, 299; hunting, 187; Italian, 424-425, 438, 439, 443; Kentuckian, 220, 224; Norwegian, xiv, 3,96,260,346,347,435,436,437,482; Ojibwe, 132,310,311,315,318,319-320, 405; Oneida, 345; Polish, 160,339,342,352, 357,439,442; Slovenian, 279; Swiss, 370; in taverns, 377-378; "up north," 109; winter drinks, 10; woods workers, 145-146, 435; mentioned, 3-5, 13. See also Gardening; Gathering; Hunting and fishing Forest County, 220, 343, 344, 375 Forestville, 323 Ford, Henry, 259 Fort Atkinson, 33 Fossum, Gladys, 433-434 Fossum, John, 195 Fournier, Paul, 139, 171 Franksville, 272 Frederic, 432

530

Index Frederickson, Esther, 346 Frederickson, Ruth, 346 Freistadt, 275 French and French Canadians: commercial fishers, 457; customs, 163; dance, 123, 132, 163, 258; dialect, 33, 72, 142; fur traders, xiii, 114, 122, 396; jokes, 171; legends, 132, 159; music, 123-124, 163; names, 4, 169; place names, 397; song, 27, 372; stereotypes, 168; woods workers, 72, 122, 159; mentioned, 3, 253,331,367,378,431 French Indian (Metis): dialect, 33; jokes, 33, 34 Friedl, Ernestine, 307 Fritsche, Fezz, 277 Fritz the Plumber, 276 Fry, Hayden, 11 Funerals: Czech, 273; German, 438, 441; Hmong, 292, 296-299; Ho-Chunk, 343; Kentuckian, 230-231; Menominee, 343; Ojibwe, 129-130, 311,318-319,343; Oneida, 343345; Polish, 447, 448, 453; Potawatomi, 343 Funmaker, Kenneth, Sr., 113, 390 Fur trade. See Trapping Fussville, 326 Gale, Zona, 25 Games: Belgian, 365; farmers, 483; Ho-Chunk, 117; Kentuckian, 227, 245-247; Ojibwe, 322; in taverns, 383, 384; winter, associated with, 9; woods workers, 72, 78, 371, 372-375. See also Card games Gamroth, Albert, 159-162 Gard, Robert E., 21-22, 25, 33 Gardening, 412, 424-425 Gardner, Emelyn, 159 Garland, Hamlin, 25 Garrison, Lucy McKim, 16 Garski, Leo, 380 Gathering: berries, 123,320; maple sugar, xiv, 99, 100, 320; mushrooms, xiv, 169; wild rice, 18,24,123,191,320,396,398,433 Gaulke, Charles, 169 Gays Mills, 85, 477 Gein, Ed, 6, 7-8 Gender roles, 482, 488, 491 Germans: architecture, 25, 445; arts and crafts, 410-413,417--419,432,433; clothing, 432; commercial fishers, 457; custom, 377, 378, 381; dance, 254-256, 258, 269, 270; dialect, 4-5,49--61, 276; farmers, 169, 411--412, 417, 432; folk medicine, 323-330; foodways, xiv, 3, 5,41,81,254,352,435--444; funerals, 438, 441; music, 25, 40, 49, 256, 269, 270, 271, 273,275-278,282,438;names,4;occupa-

tional speech, 80-84; place names, 40--41; proverbs, 42-48; song, 19,271,277,323; stereotypes, 40, 167, 168,252,254-256; weddings, 441; mentioned, xiii, 253, 262, 340, 362,378,398,431 Gesicki, Mike, xiv Gessner, Amy, 21 Gibbsville, 432, 434 Gierke, Rod, 473 Gill, Rev. Clayton, 289 Gill, Thermond,289 Gill Singers, the, 289 Gilmore, Janet C., 4, 24, 25, 407, 436, 457--458 Gleason, 110 Glen Haven, 42 Glidden, 110 Goodnow, 213 Good Times Band, 267 Goose Island Ramblers, 267, 476 Gordon, 200 Gordon, Ross, 276 Gorecki, Dennis, 454 Gorecki, Florian, 454 Gospel Melodies, the, 289 Gospel Trumpets, the, 289 Gostomski, AI. See Roberts, Al Gosz, Paul, 274 Gosz, Romy, 274, 275, 282 Gosz, Tony, 276 Goulet, Dave, 72 Grabowski, Richard, 461, 463, 465, 466, 468, 469,473,474 Gracyalny, Gary, 282 Gralak, Don, 282 Grandlez, 365 Grant County, 42, 476 Gratiot, Adele, 13 Green Bay, 11, 106, 258, 274, 343, 344, 362, 363,435,436,445,453,457,458,459,461, 463,464,469 Green Bay Packers, 6-7,11,12, 13, 110 Green County, 367 Gregory, Lady, 22 Griesemer, Leone Fischer, 323, 325 Griffin, O. W., 290 Grignon, Augustin, 33 Grimm Brothers, xiii, 15 Groeschl, Anton, 271 Groeschl, Johan, 271 Groeschl, Syl, 271, 276-277 Groeschl, Tony, 271 Grubb, Rena J., 340 Gruetzmacher, Dan, 277 Gudajtes, Ed, 456 Guibord, Prosper, 310, 312, 314-316, 322

531

Index Guiding Light Missionary Baptist Church Mass Choir, 290 Gulhaug, Ben, 259 Guto, Tobias, 154 Haas, Franz, 438, 440, 443 Haas, John, 441, 443 Hachten, Harva, 435, 436 Halpert, Herbert, 27-28, 131 Halvorson, Ha.lvor, 265 Hamburg, 110 Hanson, Henry "Step-and-a-Half," 267 Harris, Terry, 289 Harris Crusaders, the, 289 Hart, Margaret, 343 Hartford, 272 Hartmann, Gordon, 280 Hartvig, Johan, 157 Hartwich, Karl, 277 Harvey, Jeff, 467, 468 Haugen, 273,275,435,436 Haugen, Einar, 22, 27, 149-150, 346 Haughian, Pat, 174 Hawes, Bess Lomax, 24 Hawpetoss, Jerry, 193,343 Hayward, 371, 398 Heffron, 451 Heinie and His Grenadiers, 49-50, 276 Helgeson, Thor, 149-150 Hellom, Jens, 155, 156 Herbster, 110 Hennan,40 Henness, Peter, 467 Herron, Ardella, 285 Herron, Geneva, 285 Herron, Shirley, 285 Hess, Dorothy Schultz, 417-419 Heyde, Rev. Joseph, 443 Hickey, Dennis, 459 Hickey, "Ox Bow," 77 Hillsboro, 275, 352 Hlinak, Larry, 274 Hmong: arts and crafts, 292; beliefs, 296-297; clothing, 298; customs, 301-303; festivals, 292; foodways, 299; funerals, 292, 296-299; music, 292, 294-304; myths, 297-298; song, 297-298,301-303 Hmong Mutual Assistance Association, 292, 295 Ho-Chunk (fonnerly known as Winnebago): arts and crafts, 343, 433; dance, 27, 197-198; clothing, 114, 116, 120; customs, 17; folktales, 113-121; funerals, 343; games, 117; language, 3; music, 115, 389, 390; myths, 113; song, 27, 115,197-198,390; storytelling, 25 Hoffman, Frank, 70

Hoffman, Shorty, 276 Hoffman, Walter J., 18 Holcombe, 76, 79 Hollandale, 259, 267 Hollanders. See Dutch Hollar, Gregar, Jr., 150 Holmes, Fred, 36, 362, 377, 432 Holy Hill, 323 Hoppe, Karl, 272 Horicon, 41 Home, "White Water" Ole, 72, 78, 371 Hoyer, William, 72 Hoyer Trio, 279 Hoyord, Matias, 156 Hoyord, Ola, 156 Hudson, 332,335,337, 338 Hudson Star-Obseroer, 337 Hudson Star- Times, 333

Hughes, Maggie, 36 Hughes Sisters, the, 289 Huilsburg,40 Humphrey, G., 21 Humphrey, Lin T., 442 Humphrey, Theodore C., 442 Hungarians (Magyars): dance, 258, 269; folk medicine, 323; mentioned, 253, 258 Hunter, Fred Mero, 72 Hunting and fishing, 220; for bear, 171, 179,314, 316; for deer, xiv, 7--8, 14,91,96,97, 106, 109, 132, 170, 180, 183-188,314; for elk, 187-188; fishing, 12,95, 109, 123, 129, 135, 185; for fowl, xiv, 99, 184, 185-186, 311; ice fishing, 9-10, 123, 187,320,396--406; jokes, 132, 170, 171, 179-180; for rabbits and squirrels, 132, 185, 311; rhymes, 380. See also Commercial fishing Huot, Martha, 192 Hurley, 9-10, 128 Hustisford, 277 Ibarra, Robert, 476 Icelanders, 253 Illinois. See Stereotypes Independence, 160, 161 Indiana University, 16,23,62 lola, 149 Iowa County, 36, 39 Irish: beliefs, 445; conflict with the English, 6970, 168; customs, 163; dance, 163,252-253, 258; dialect, 52; ethnic slurs against, 62; fanners, 163-175; jokes, 167, 168-169; legends, 174; music, 163,269,273; names, 3; song, 200, 214-217; stereotypes, 62, 168, 252-253; woods workers, 15, 72, 75, 163, 164, 165, 169-173; mentioned, xiii, 262, 340, 367, 378

532

Index Iron County, 21 Italians: arts and crafts, 423--425; dialect, 4-5; fanners, 424--425; festivals, 439; foodways, 425,438,439,443; gardening, 424--425; music, 269, 273; names, 4; stereotypes, 251; mentioned, 75, 378 Iverson, Charlotte, 348 Iverson, Grace, 348 Iverson, Lars, 348 Iverson, Ordy, 348 Jackola, Walter, 176 Jackson, Edda Mae, 289 Jackson, 276 Jacobs, Joshua, 239 Jacobs, Madison Green, 221, 248, 249 Jacobs, Maud, 219, 223 Jacobs, Ollie, 219, 220-250 Jacobs, Paul, 219, 223 Jagiello, Walter "Li'l Wally," 282 Jakubek, Bernice, 452 James, Elizabeth, 36 Janesville, 284 Jefferson County, 476 Jenks, Albert, 18 Jensen, Elaine, 348 Jensen, Ray, 348 Jerabek, "Tuba Dan," 272 Jews, 251, 285 Jirkovec, Mark, 274 Jisa, John, 270 Johanik, Philip, Jr., 21 Johanik, Tom, 269-270 John Michael Kohler Arts Center, 407, 408 Johnson, Jean, 259 Johnson, Mary, 289 Johnson, Pat, 13 Johnson, Paul, 181 Johnson, Rob, 49 Johnson, Walter, 178 Johnstad, Iver, 264, 267 Jokes: dialect jokes, xiv, 167, 171; farmers, 51, 169-170, 171, 172, 483; Finnish, 176; French Canadian, 171; French Indian, 33, 34; about Ed Gein, 8; hunting and fishing, 132, 170, 171; Irish, 167, 168--169; Norwegian, xiv, 6-7, 63,69,170, 173,483;Ojibwe, 127, 131-132, 321; Swedish, 63, 69, 169; in taverns, 381; about winter, 10; woods workers, 171. See also Joking relationship; Practical jokes Joking relationship, 488, 490--492 Jones, John, 36-37 Jones, William, 18, 128 Jones, William R., 36 Josie, Bill, 78

Jump River, 12 Juneau, 272 Juneau County, 161 Justice, Walter, 236 Kakulis" Vita v., 426--429 Kaszuba Aces, 282 Keillor, Garrison, 49 Kenosha, 21, 284 Kentuckians: architecture, 224; dance, 227, 245-247; fanners, 219, 220-221; foodways, 220, 224; funerals, 230-231; games, 227, 245-247; hunting and fishing, 220-221; songs, 219-250; stereotypes, 220-221; woods workers, 219, 220 Keosian, Elizabeth, 416 Keshena, 192, 193,258 Kewaunee, 258,271,272, 273 Kewaunee County, 6, 270, 362, 456 Kezeski, Ernie, 384 Kiel, 42, 338 Kimball, Art, 398 Kimball, Brad, 398 Kincaid, Bradley, 223 King, Frank "Pee Wee," 281-282 King, Max, 281-282 King, Wayne, 281 Kirk, William F., 64 Kjendalen, Anders, 154 Kjendalen, Anne, 154 Kjos, Anders, 158 Klass, Joey, 280 Klompenhauwer, William, 432--434 Knapp, 333 Knebel, Melva, 36 Koch, Frederick H., 22 Koch, Lewis, 24, 25, 259-260 Kolinski, Dennis L., 446 Konkol, Ray, 282 Konkol Comer, 449, 451 Koshkonong, ISO Kozera, Grant, 280, 282 Kozera, Stanislaw, 281 Kraase, August, 432 Krueger, Robert B., 72 Kubista, Charlie, 90 Ku Klux Klan, 251 Kucynski, Frank. See King, Frank Kucysnki, Max. See King, Max Kuether, Bob, 274 Kurath, Gertrude Prokosh, 191 Laatsch, William G., 362 Lac Court Oreilles, 122, 127, 128, 129,307-322, 389,396

533

Index Lac du Flambeau, 122, 126, 128~ 192, 196, 197, 258,307,397-406 La Crosse, 113, 260, 277 La Crosse County, 476 Ladysmith, 200, 375, 429, 430, 431 La Farge, 23, 478 Lafayette County, 13,36,39 Lake Geneva, 13 Lake Nebagamon, 134 Lake Tomahwak, 110, 200, 208 Lakes: Big Crooked, 397; Broken Bow, 397; Chief, 316; Cranberry, 397; Crawling Stone, 397; Flambeau, 397; Little Trout, 397; Mendota, 6; Michigan, 159,271,432,457-475; Montanis, 166; Pepin, 12; Pine, 213; Pokegama, 397, 398; Poygan, 401; Shishebogama, 399; Sugarbush, 397; Superior, 8, 74,85, 125, 128, 176, 397,398,457,458,459,461; Wild Rice, 397; Windigo, 6; Winnebago, 6, 271, 401, 473 Laloch, Ed, 74 Langlade County, 220, 222 Lannon, 326 La Pointe, 311, 397 Larson, Olaf, 259 Last, Fred, 432 Latvians: arts and crafts, 425-429; clothing, 427,429 Laughead, W. B., 139 Leary, Bella, 435 Leary, Finn, 435 Leary, Warren, 12,42,106,380 LeBotte, Theophile, 364 Lee, Neng Lor, 298 Legends -anecdotes of local characters: cannery workers, 493-494; farmers, 169, 173-174; Finnish, 180-182; Irish, 174; woods workers, 72-79, 181,371 -historical: Czech, 435; French Canadian, 159; Norwegian, 62-71,159,435; Polish, 159; Swiss, 368 -place name, 85; Ojibwe, 125 -supernatural, 26, 72; Belgian and Polish, 453; Finnish, 176; French Canadian, 132; Norwegian, 149-158; Ojibwe, 122, 128-129, 132138, 320-321. See also Bunyan, Paul LeGreve, Frank, 364 Legwold, Gary, 435 Leipsig,40 Leland, 377 LeMasters, E. E., 183 Lempeurer, Fram;oise, 362 Leonard, Fred, 76 Letko, Paul, 21

Letko, Rudy, 21 Levy, Marci, 354 Lewis, Jerry Lee, 80 Library of Congress: American Folklife Center, 24; Archive of American Folksong, 14, 19, 24, 161, 192,200-201,219-220,323,356,362,372 Liebl, Syl, 277 Liedl, Alphonse, 106 Lisowski, "Crusher," 159 Liss, Kevin, 277 Lincoln, 365 Lincoln County, 277 Linrud, Henry, 478, 484 Lithuanians: names, 4 Little Falls, 72, 76 Little Richard, 282 Littlewolf, James, 126 Lodi, 441 Loeffelmacher, Harold, 277 Lomax, John, 15, 141 Lomira, 40, 41 Long Way 'Round, the, 289 Loretto, 323 Luchsinger, John, 367 Luckett, Avery, 288 Luckett, Delon, 288 Luckett, Jerry, 288 Luckett, Leroy, 288 Luckett, Matthew, 288 Ludington, Harrison, 42 Lumaye, Joseph, 364 Lumberjacks. See Bunyan, Paul; Woods workers Lutheran church: attitude toward dance, 265; foodways, 435, 436; jokes, 149-150; mentioned, xiii, 275. See also Churches Lynts, Rich, 473 McCann, Pat, 73 McCraw, "Sliver," 75 McCullum, Jesse, 290 McFarland, 27 McGillivray, James, 139 McHenry, Leah Bensman, 272 McMillan, Bertha, 285 McNeil, W. K., 18 Madeline Island, 35, 124, 397 Madison, 14, 20, 251, 268, 276, 284, 346, 410, 412,414,415,416,429,433,435,438-441, 443. See also University of Wisconsin Malloch, Douglas, 139, 140, 145-146 Manitowoc, 33-35,158,271,273,274,276 Manitowoc County, 276 Marathon County, 12, 89, 277, 450 March, Richard, 24, 25, 124, 398

534

Index Marchall, Alvina, 382, 384 Margraff, Norman, 276 Maribel, 273 Maroszek family, 271, 282 Marten, Mary, 314--316 Martin, Philip, 24, 25, 259-260, 346, 408 Marx, Wilbur, 371 Masey, Carl, 364 Mason, August, 203 Mason, "Bulldog," 77 Masonic Wonders, the, 284, 289 Massart, Dorothy, 364 Matlack, Alissa, 122 Maulson, Alex, 397--406 Maultsby, Portia, 288 Mayville, 40, 324, 325 Medicine. See Folk medicine Meeks, Bennie, 288 Meisner, Steve, 280 Meisner, Verne, 280 Mellem, Clarence, 478, 481, 482, 484, 485 Mellem, Irene, 482 Melsna, Ira, 478, 479, 484 Menard, Rosemary Korger, 323 Menasha, 277 Menominee (Menomini): arts and crafts, 343, 391-392; beliefs, 192, 343; clothing, 343; dance, 191-199; folk medicine, 394--395; funerals, 343; hunting and fishing, 397; language, 3; music, 191-199,389; myths, 390; song, 191-199; woods workers, 197-198; mentioned, 17, 18, 33 Menominee, Michigan, 461,464,465,466,468, 470 Menomonie, 6, 106, 163 Mequon, 433 Merrill, 205, 210, 213, 277 Mesquakie: dance, 191, 192, 196; language, 3 Messman, Fred, 432 Metis. See French Indian Metropolitan Missionary Baptist Church Mass Choir, 290 Metzdorf, Clarence, 272 Mexicans, 273 Mhalik, Gregory, 270 Michelson, Truman, 18, 128 Michigan. See Upper Peninsula of Michigan Michigan Traditional Arts Program, 472 Middleton, 183, 412, 441, 443 Mignon, Norbert, 364 Migwanabe, Joe, 125 Miller, Dorothy Moulding, 27 Milwaukee: African Americans, 284--288, 419; Germans, 5, 42, 49--61, 80-84, 276, 277; Lat-

vians, 426--429; Poles, 159, 161,282,342; Slovenians, 279-280; mentioned, 8, 11, 14, 15,26,27,205,271,272,274,336,340,407, 416,431,436 Milwaukee Brewers, 11, 12, 110 Milwaukee County, 280 Milwa'ukee Journal, 49, 208 Milwaukee Public Museum, 14, 18,26,307,343 Mineral Point, 423, 424, 425, 457 Miners, 33, 176-177, 181, 253 Mink, John, 307-322 Minocqua, 13, 110, 139 Misere,365 Mitchell, James, 289 Mitchell, Rob, 107 Mitchell, Roger, 8, 12, 89, 91 Moe, Jargen, 150 Mole Lake, 122 Monahan, Joe, 208-209 Mondovi, 266 Monona, 10 Monroe, 27 Monroe County, 476 Montgomery, Edward, 289 Montgomery, Gregg, 72, 372 Moquah, 21-22, 269-270, 340 Morgan, Frank, 288 Morrisonville, 200 Morschauser, Frances, 410-412 Mortenson, Manda, 265, 267 Mosinee, 277 Moua, Kai, 295 Mount Horeb, 25, 33, 62,151,390,433, 457-458 Moustache, James "Pipe," 307 Moustache, Whiskey John, 317 Muller, Dale, 23 Murphy, Pat, 210 Murphy, Rick, 49 Murphy, Tom, 77 Murray, Jimmy, 371 Museum of American Folk Art, 396-397 Music: African American, 259, 284--291; Austrian,269,273,276,280,331;Bel~an,269,

273, 362, 363-364; Croatian, 273; Czech, 269, 270,271, 272,273-275, 282, 352, 354; farmers, 476; Finnish, 11, 178,269,273; French and French Canadian, 123-124; German, 25, 40,49,256,269,270,271,273,275-278, 282, 438; Hmong, 292, 294--304; Ho-Chunk, 115, 389, 390; Irish, 163, 269, 273; Italian, 269,273; Menominee, 191-199,389; Mexican, 273; Norwegian, xiv, 27,157,259-267, 269,273,346,349,476;Ojibwe, 123, 132-

535

Index clothing, 260, 432, 435; commercial fishers, 457; customs, 150, 157, 262, 478-482, 484485; dance, 258, 259, 262-264; dialect, 4-5, 49,64, 78,169,346,436,483; farmers, 89, 260-262,432,476-485; festivals, 346-351, 476; foodways, xiv, 3, 96, 260, 346, 347, 435, 436,437,482; jokes, xiv, 6-7, 63, 69, 170, 173,483; legends, 62-71, 149-158,159,435; music, xiv, 27,157,259-267,269,273,346, 349, 476; names, 4; place names, 153, 155; rhymes, 62-63, 70,436; song, 4, 62, 63,65, 159; stereotypes, 258; storytelling, 150-158; weddings, 157,265,267; woods workers, 72, 78, 153, 262-263; mentioned, xiii, 22, 253,367 Novy, Robert, 354 Nyen, Albert, 261 Nyen, Helmer, 261 Nyen, Ole, 261 Nyen, Oscar, 261, 267 Nylund, Charlie, 473 Nylund, Wilbert "Pep," 458

Music (continued)

133, 315, 317-318, 389; Polish, 269, 270271,273,280-282,339,340-341,379,446; polka, 25, 80, 268-283, 483; rockabilly, 80; Slovak, 269; Slovenian, 80, 269, 273, 279280, 282; Swedish, 269, 273; Swiss, 27, 269, 272, 273, 280, 370; in taverns, 266, 276, 279, 370; Woodland Indian, 18-19; woods workers, 27, 163, 203,373; Yankee, 257, 263; mentioned, 335. See also Dance; Song; Song and tune titles Muskego, 150 Mystic Knights of the Blue Ox, 140 Myths: Hmong, 297-298; Ho-Chunk, 113; Menominee, 390; Ojibwe, 17, 113, 122, 125, 126-127,307,321; Woodland Indian, 27 Naes, Iver, 154 Names: Belgian, 4; cannery workers, 493; Czech, 4, 362; Dutch, 434; English, 4, 343; Finnish, 4; French Canadian, 4, 169; German, 4; Irish, 3; Italian, 4; Lithuanian, 4; Norwegian, 4; Ojibwe, 123, 311, 318; Swiss, 4; of taverns, 109,378; Welsh, 36-39; Woodland Indian, 343; woods workers, 72-79. See also Dialect; Occupational speech; Place names Namur, 365 National Endowment for the Arts, 24, 25,124,

Occupational speech: brewery workers, 80-84; cannery workers, 490, 491, 492; commercial fishers, 460-464; farmers and farm workers, 85-88,89-100,479,482-483; foundry workers, 80; machinists, 80; woods workers, 77, 92,

268,407 National Endowment for the Humanities, 24 Native American. See Ho-Chunk; Menominee; Mesquakie; OJibwe; Oneida; Potawatomi; Stockbridge-Munsee; Woodland Indian Naughtin, John M., 443 Navarino, 436 Neal, Robert M., 457 Necedah, 323 Neenah, 10,36 Neillsville, 113 Nelligan, John Emmett, 139-140,371 Nelson, Isaac, 266, 267 Neopit, 192 Neviaush, George, 122 New City, 161 New Glarus, 27, 256-258, 367, 369 New Lisbon, 161 New Richmond, 332, 333, 335 New Vocalaires, the, 290 Nicholas, Claude, 159 Nichols, John, 126 Niemczyk, Chet, 380, 384 Northland College, 124 Norwegians: arts and crafts, 25, 265, 347, 408, 432,433-434; beliefs, 149, 157,347,445;

93,94,95,96,97,98,99,100,142,200 Oconomowoc, 6, 33 Oconto, 27 Oconto County, 159, 280, 372, 375 Ocooch Mountain News, 433 Ocooch Mountains, 353, 355, 477 Odana, 128 Ogema, 6, 110 Ohage, Dr. Justus, 337 Ojibwe: architecture, 398; arts and crafts, 18,24, 25,310,321-322,343,391-392, 396-406; beliefs, 124, 128, 132-134, 136,311,312-313, 343,401; clothing, 309,311,343; commercial fishers, 457; customs, 129-130,310,311, 317-318; dance, 123, 132-133, 137, 191, 195, 196, 197,317,321; folk medicine, 313317,394-395; folktales, 122, 131-132; foodways, 132,310,311,315,318,319-320,405; funerals, 129-130,311,318-319,343; games, 322; gathering, 123, 320, 396, 398, 433; hunting and fishing, 122-123, 129, 135,311,314, 316,396-406; jokes, 127, 131-132,321; legends, 122, 125, 128-129, 132-134, 135-138, 320-321; music, 123, 132-133,315,317318,389; myths, 17, 113, 122, 125, 126-127, 307,321; names, 123,311,318; place names,

536

Index 125; proverbs, 130; song, 126, 192; trapping, xiii, 123, 127, 131, 132, 396, 398; weddings, 311-312; woods workers, 122, 127, 132-133, 308, 396; mentioned, 18, 24, 33, 307 O'Keeffe, Georgia, 25 Oldemulders, Fred, 433 Old World Wisconsin, 24, 457 Oneida: foodways, 345; funerals, 343-345; song, 343, 344; mentioned, 17 Oneida County, 200, 205 Oostburg, 432-434 Oregon, 350-351 Orfordville, 257 Osborn, Emily, 353 Oshkosh, 36, 208 Ostrem, Maynard, 478 Ottow, Alice, 323 Oulu, 178 Outagamie County, 6 Owens, John, 38 Ozaukee County, 275, 276 Parrish, 110 Patek, Rudy, 277 Pawlowska, Harriet, 159, 356 Pearl, Jack, 76 Pederson, E., 259 Pederson, Jane Marie, 346 Pellowski, Anne, 356-357 Penfield, Jean Jefferson, 336 Perpich, Rudy, 12 Perrin, Richard W. E., 457 Person, Ovald, 154 Peters Brothers, 277 Peterson, Ben, 466, 467-468, 470-471, 473 Peterson, David C., 23 Peterson, Larry, 107 Phelps, 110 Phillips, 74, 273, 275 Pickett, 37 Pierron, Louis, 42 Pierron, William, 42 Pilsen, 273 Pilsen Band, the, 270 Pine Bluff, 441 Pine Creek, 356 Place names: Dane County, 85; French, 397; German, 40-41; Norwegian, 153, 155; Ojibwe, 125; Welsh, 36-39; Woodland Indian, 3, 6, 14, 18,33-35 Plainfield, 7-8 Platteville, 21 Plazewski, Venita, 440-441 Polish: architecture, 25, 445, 448, 453; arts and

crafts, 358; beliefs, 445-446, 447, 448, 449; commercial fishers, 457; customs, 162,356361,447,451; dance, 27, 258, 269,270,271, 339,340-341; farmers, 161-162,339-342; festivals, 162,342,448,453; foodways, 160, 339,342,352,357,439,442; funerals, 447, 448,453; jokes, 131; legends, 159-162,453; music, 269, 270-271, 273, 280-282, 339, 340-341,379,446; names, 4; rhymes, 359; shrines and sacred sites, 445-456; song, 159160, 271; stereotypes, 62; weddings, 270-271, 281, 339-342, 381, 446; mentioned, 220, 262, 378,435,440 Polish Sweethearts, 282 Polka. See Music Polka Dimension, 282 Polka Lovers Klub of America (PoLKA), 272 Polkatown Sound, 282 Polkcadets, 282 Polonia, 449, 452, 453, 455 Pontsville,41 Port Washington, 272 Portage Country, 150,280,282,339,356,358, 378,380,381,445,451,452,454 Potawatomi: arts and crafts, 343; beliefs, 343; clothing, 343, 344; funerals, 343; hunting and fishing, 397; mentioned, 17, 33, 192 Potter, 274 Powell, John Wesley, 17 Poynette, 272 Practical jokes: cannery workers, 489; woods workers, 72, 73, 371, 372, 375-376. See also Joking relationship Prairie du Sac, 258 Presley, Elvis, 282 Prestbroten, Gilbert, 267 Presti!, Mary, 271 Proverbs and proverbial phrases, 130, 175; farmers, 101-103; Finnish, 182; German, 42-48; Ojibwe, 130; woods workers, 78 Pryor, Anne, 323 Przybylski, Chad, 282 Public folklore, 23-26, 284, 407-409 Pulaski, 33,271,281, 282,445,453, 455,456 Pulaski News, 456 Pusel, Jake, 78 Pusel, John, 78 Pyawasit, Myron, 191 QuaIl, Ed, 266 Queens of Harmony, the, 290 Racin~284,415,416,435

Rada fami!y, 323

537

Index Radin, Paul, 18, 113 Radio stations: WAUN, 272; WCCO, 62; WIBU, 272; Wisconsin Public Radio, 22, 24, 25, 372; WJMC, xiv; WKOW, 276; WLS, 223-224; WRJQ, 276; WTKM, 272; WTMJ, 49-50; WYLO, 276 Randolph, Vance, 132 Recording companies: Broadway, 272, 274; Brunswick, 274; Columbia, 274, 281; Cuca, 272, 282; Decca, 49, 274, 276; HD, 272; King, 274; Mercury, 274, 279; Mermaid, 281; Mono, 274; Okeh, 274; Pfau, 272, 279; Polkaland, 272,274; RCA Victor, 274, 279; RY, 272, 280, 281; Vocalion, 274 Red Cliff, 122-124 Redgranite, 36, 398 Rewey, 36-39 Rhinelander, 21, 33, 139, 200-204, 206 Rhymes: as ethnic slurs, 62, 63, 69-70; about Ed Gein, 8; German, 60; hunting and fishing, 380; Norwegian, 624)3, 70, 436; Polish, 359; toasts, 167-168,380; about weather, 380 Rice Lake, xiii, 9, 10, 27, 62, 106, 139, 163, 164,166,170,171,200,266,272,310,346, 352,373,384,396,435 Rice Lake Chronotype, 106, 139, 373, 396, 433 Richland Center, 33 Richland County, 352, 476 Rickaby, Franz, 15, 200, 206, 207 Rindlisbacher, Iva, 373 Rindlisbacher, Otto, 9, 27, 266, 272, 373 Ringle, 110 Ripon College, 18 Ritzenthaler, Pat, 343 Ritzenthaler, Robert, 18, 307, 343 River Falls, 106 Rivers: Black, 113; Cedar, 458, 461; Chippewa, 72,73, 74, 79,163; Clam, 75; Couderay, 310; Flambeau, 75, 142; Fox, 113,258,377; Kickapoo, 85, 86, 477; Mississippi, 20, 457, 458, 477; Pecatonica, 33; Peshtigo, 461; Pine, 477; Red Cedar, 163; Rock, 113; S1. Croix, 331, 335,337,338; Tomahawk, 212; Wisconsin, 113,142,144,205,353,477 Roberson Brothers, the, 290 Roberts, AI, 282 Roberts, Warren E., 472 Robertson, Sidney, 219 Robinson, Jimmie, 213 Rock County, 476 Rockwood, 274 Rodgers, Dick, 281, 282 Rodgers, Steve, 282 Rodziczak, Dick. See Rodgers, Dick

Roller, Peter, 284 Rollins, Lee, 274 Rondau, Les, 184 Rooney, Bartley, 78 Rooney, Jim, 78 Rooney, Mike, 78 Rooney, Pete, 78 Roosevelt, Franklin D., 21, 27, 72 Ros, William, 432 Rosholt, Malcolm, 72, 149,339,445,446 Rosholt, 454 Rosiere, 364, 365 Ross, Edward A., 251 Rott, Tina, 354 Rott Band, the, 273 Roux, Vic, 183 Roxbury, 411, 445 Royko, Mike, 14 Rubenzer family, 271, 323 Rudolph, 323, 455 Ruleau, Bob, 458, 466 Ruleau, Louis, 458, 461, 462, 464, 465, 466, 469,473 Ruleau, Tom, 458 Rusk County, 159, 280 Russell, Ann, 164 Russell, Catherine, 163 Russell, Charlie, 164, 174 Russell, George, 163-175 Russell, Patrick, 163, 164 Russell, Sadie, 164 Ryba, Mike, 282 Saffert, Dave, 183 Sailors (Great Lakes), 23, 74 S1. Croix, 122, 343 S1. Germaine, Louis, Jr., 398 S1. Joseph's Ridge, 323 Sabman~Zdene~353

Samuelson, Sue, 442 Sandburg, Bob, 106 Sandburg, Dix, 106 San Sauveur, 365 Sarona, 90 Sauk City, 272 Sauk County, 377 Savatski, Bill, 280 Scandinavians: stereotypes, 62. See also Danes; Finns; Icelanders; Norwegians; Swedes Schafer, Joseph, 139 Scheid, Elmer, 277 Scheufer, Vladimir, 353 Schneider, Herbie, 276 Schneider, Jerry, 276

538

Index Schneider, Dr. Joseph, 205 Schoolcraft, Henry Rowe, 17, 122, 126 Schuchardt, Betty, 441 Schuchardt, Emmett, 438-440, 443-444 Schuchardt, Phyllis, 438 Schuebel, Dale, 10 Schultz, Harold, 274 Schultz, Vera Dvorak, 270 Scots Canadians, 371 Seaman, Bill, 467 Seaman, ~ayne,466,471,473 Seifert, Lester, 40 Selner, Raymond, 456 Sergeant, M. ~., 140 Severson, Randie Easterson, 265-266 Severson, Sam, 266 Sharp, Cecil, 219, 223, 224, 227 Shawano, 192 She and He Haugh Band, 275 Sheboygan, 5,33,34,272,407 Sheboygan County, 276, 362, 432, 434 Sheridan, Charles, 139-140 Shrines and sacred sites, 323, 362, 365-366, 445-456 Siebold, Tom, 274 Siegel, Bob "Sieg," 433 Silberhom, Henry, 277 Simpson, Emil, 267 Sinsinawa Mound, 323 Sironen, Jack, 181 Skinner, Alanson, 18 Skipping Day, 126 Sladky, Anton, 270 Sladky, Frank, 270 Slak, Lojse, 280 Slavs, 251-252 Slotkin, James Sidney, 192, 196 Slovaks: clothing, 22; dance, 21-22, 269-270; music, 269; mentioned, 340 Slovenians: dance, 270; foodways, 279; music, 80,269,273,279-280,282; song, 279; mentioned, 340 Slusarski, Dominic, 282, 379, 382 Smith, Hugh M., 397 Smith, Huron, 18 Smith, Otis, 473 Smith, Susan Lampert, 377 Smithsonian Institution, 14, 124; Bureau of American Ethnology, 17, 18; Office of Folklife Programs and Cultural Studies (Festival of American Folklife), 24, 25, 266, 284, 331, 389, 473 Snopek, Sigmund, 49 Somerset, 331-338 Song and ballad: African American, 16,200,

218,257,284-291; Anglo-Celtic, 16; Belgian, 362; Christmas carols, 350; Cornish, 19; documentation of ~isconsin folksongs, 19-20; French Canadian, 27, 372; German, 19, 271, 277, 323; Hmong, 297-298, 301-303; HoChu~k,27, 115, 197-198,390; Irish, 200, 214-217; Kentuckian, 219-250; Menominee, 191-199; Norwegian, 4, 62, 63, 65, 159; Ojibwe, 126, 192; Oneida, 343, 344; Polish, 159-160,271; Slovenian, 279; Swiss, 27, 433; ~elsh, 19, 36, 37, 433; woods workers, 15, 72. 78, 200-218, 371, 372. See also Music; Song and tune titles Song and tune titles: "Annie in the Cabbage Patch," 270; "As I Came Over Yonder's Hill," 226, 248; "As 1 ~as ~alking Through the Grove," 230-231; "Barbara Allen," 223; ""The Big Rock Candy Mountain," 205; "The Birds Sing Sweeter, Lad, at Home," 205, 218; "'Blue Skirt ~altz," 279; ""Come By Here," 290; "Coming through the Rye," 266; "Da Turdy Point Buck," 106; "Dear Lover, How Can You Be So Beautiful?," 302; "Devil's Dream," 133; "Driving Saw Logs on the Plover," 15, 200; "Eli Green's Cakewalk," 214; "A Fair Damsel in the Garden," 227; "A Farmer Had a Daughter," 228-229; "Flying Dutchman," 266; "Going Up Cripple Creek," 226, 245-246; "The Good Old Dollar Bill," 205, 217; "Herr Schmidt," 266, 270; "How Come You ~ere Born So Pretty," 303; "I'm a Bo's'n by My Trade," 232; ""I am not so Handsome and am Very Poor," 302; "I Asked That Girl to Marry Me," 226, 233; "I Once Knew a Little Girl," 226,233-234; "I ~ill Not Marry a Farmer," 234; "If I Get You 1 ~ill Take Care of You," 303; "I'll Sell My Hat, I'll Sell My Coat," 219, 235; "In Heaven There is No Beer," 4; "Irish Jubilee," 205, 215-217; "Isaac Nelson's Hoppwaltz," 256; "It's Me Lord, Standing in the Need of Prayer," 289; "'Iver Johnstad's Hoppwaltz," 264; "The Jam on Gerry's Rock," 15, 201, 206-208; "Jesus is on the Mainline," 290; "Johan Pa Snippen," 264; "John Till of Somerset," 333, 334; "Just Because," 279; "Keep Your Skirts Down, Mary Ann," 205; "King ~illiam ~as King James's Son," 246; "Last Saturday Night I Entered a House," 236; "Lily of Sogn," 259; "Lily of Valders," 259; "The Little Brown Bulls," 15, 201, 204, 210212, 371; '"Livet i Finnskogen" (Life in the Finnish ~oods), 264; "Log Driving Song," 204, 206; "'Lordagsvalsen" (Saturday Night ~altz), 264; "Milwaukee Polka," 80; "Mine

539

Index Song and tune titles (continued) Eyes Have Seen the Glory," 289; "The Mormon Coon," 205, 218; "My Father Has Often Told Me," 237; "My Father Keeps a Public House," 238; "My Old Hen," 226, 234, 249; "Ninety-Nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall," 4; "0, Mary Dear, Go Ask Your Mother," 239; "On the Banks of the Little Eau Pleine," 15, 200; "Once I Courted a Charming Beauty Bright," 219, 239-240; "One Morning, One Morning, One Morning in Spring," 240; "Pete Peterson's Schottische," 264; "Peter Todenskjold," 62, 67; "Put Your Hand in the Hand," 290; "Pulaski is a Polka Town," 271, 282; "Red Raven Polka," 274; "Remember Me," 290; "The Rich Old Farmer," 219; "The Round River Drive," 139, 145-146; "Sally in the Garden," 226, 247; "Shanty Boy on the Big Eau Claire," 15, 200; "Shantyman's Life," 201, 208-210; "A Ship Set Sail for North America," 219,229-230; "Silk Umbrella Polka," 279; "Sinklars-Visen," 62, 63, 65; "Snow Deer," 201; "Swiss Boy," 274; "Tennessee Waltz," 282; "There's a Mother Waiting for You at Home," 205; "Three Happy Hunters," 205, 214-215; "To Be a Human Being is Very Difficult," 303; "Tobacco Setter's Waltz," 476; "Tobacco Waltz," 476; "Tomahawk River Hymn," 205,212-214; "Tomorrow Mom I'm Sweet Sixteen," 225, 241-242; "Up in Wisconsin," 377; "We Go Green Bay," 11; "Wearing of the Green," 207; "Well Met, My Old True Love," 219,244-245; "What Made Milwaukee Famous {Made a Loser Out of Me)," 80; "What Will I Do with the Baby-oh," 226, 249-250; "When I Go to School," 303; "The Wolf River Shanty Boy Song," 204, 208-210; "Young Johnny Has Landed," 243-244; "Zidana Marela," 279 Sopa, Adeline, 451 Sorden, L. G., 33, 200 Soulier, John, 124, 131 South Wayne, 417 Soviak, Ethel Wetterling, 429-431 Spencer, Mr. and Mrs. Charlie, 219 Spencer, Clyde, 219 Spindler, George, 192, 194, 196 Spooner, 107 Sprecher, Junior, 377 Spread Eagle, 110 Stafford, Joseph, 213 Stangelville, 273, 453, 456 Staples, Ron, 290 Stark, Harold, 140

Starr, Bart, 7 Starr, Mary Agnes, 27, 159,372 State Historical Society of Wisconsin, 14, 27, 40, 72,159-160,176,284,367,372,409 Steiner, Hedwig, 336 Stendalen, Ed, 26&-267 Stereotypes and slurs: African American, 218, 251; cheesehead, 12-14; commercial fishers, 458; Danish, 102; Dutch, 62; English, 167, 168; farmers, 23; Finnish, 252; French, 168; German, 40, 167, 168, 252, 254-256; Illinoisan, 10-14; Irish, 62, 168, 252-253; Italian, 251; Jewish, 251; Kentuckian, 220-221; Norwegian, 258; Polish, 62; polka people, 273; Scandinavian, 62; Swiss, 257; up north dwellers, 12-13, 10&-110 Stevens Point, 131, 274, 282, 378, 379 Stewart, K. Bernice, 16, 140 Stickney, Gardner P., 14 Stiles, "Check," 77 Stockbridge-Munsee,17 Stockstad, Alvin, 476 Stockstad, Oscar, 476 Stoeber~Berth~336

Stone, John, 307 Storm, Edvard, 63 Storytelling: Ho-Chunk, 25; Norwegian, 150158; Ojibwe, 17, 113, 122-138; woods workers, 26, 127, 132-133, 139-148, 153. See also Folktales; Legends; Myths Stoughton, 346, 349, 476 Stratman-Thomas, Helene, 19-21,27,200,219, 323,362 Streiff, Fridolin, 367 Strickon, Arnold, 483-484 Stuart, Marge, 348 Stuart, Ralph, 348 Stuttgen, Joanne, 219 Sullivan, Pat, 336 Sun Prairie, 412-413, 415, 441 Superior, 10, 21 Superstitions. See Beliefs Sura, Jacob, 160 Sutton, Bill, 307 Swedes: commercial fishers, 457; dance, 270; jokes, 63, 69, 169; legends, 62-71; music, 269,273; rivalry with Norwegians, 62-71; stereotypes, 62 Swiss: beliefs, 368; clothing, 257; customs, 368, 369; dance, 25&-258, 270, 368, 370; dialect, 167; drama, 367; festivals, 25&-258, 367, 370; foodways, 370; funerals, 369; legends, 368; music, 27, 269, 272, 273, 280, 370; names, 4; song, 27, 433; stereotypes, 257; weddings,

540

Index 368, 369; mentioned, 253, 262, 266, 377, 431 Synge, John Millington, 22 Synkula, Bruno, 269 Syverson, Ingvald, 266 Tacke, Glenn, 12 Tall tales. See Folktales Taverns: card games, 379, 383, 384; customs, 377, 378, 380-381; dance, xiv, 254, 276, 352, 353, 365, 370; dialect, 40, 380; foodways, 377-378; games, 383-384; jokes, 381; music, 266, 276, 279, 370; names, 109, 378; rhymes, 380; riddles, 382; mentioned, 77, 131, 162, 164,183-187,354 Taylor, Andrew, 288 Taylor, B. R., 140 Taylor County, 12 Teller, John, 191 Terland, Sigvart, 432 Teske, Heather,S Teske, Robert T., 24-25, 407 Thill, Lyle, 468, 470 Thiry Daems, 365 Thoe, Christian Christianson, 150 Thomas, Grace, 333 Thompson, Stith, 16,23 Thompson, Tommy, 12 Thoms, William J., xiii Thorpe, Anne, 89 Thorpe, Emery, 89 Thorpe, Karl, 89, 91 Three Lakes, 339 Thurston, Reinhard, 267 Thwaites, Ruben Gold, 14 Tiedrich, Lyle, 354 Tierney, Pat, 77 Tilden, 323 Till, John, 331-338 Till, John W., 331, 334 Tisch Mills, 273 Tishler, William, 24, 25, 457 Toasts. See Rhymes Tomah, 113 Tomesh, Tony, 164 Tomten, Anna, 265 Tomten, Anton, 265, 266 Tomten, Gilbert, 265 Tomten, Ingvald, 265 Tonet, 365 Tordenskiold, Peder Wessel, 67 Torger, Selmer, 267 Tourism, 12, 139, 151, 171, 191,301,340,352353,396,398-399,433 Trapping: French and French Canadian, xiii, 114,

122,396; Ho-Chunk, 113-121; Ojibwe, xiii, 123, 127, 131, 132,396,398; mentioned, xiv Treat, Asher, 219 Trempealeau, 277 Trempealeau County, 159, 161, 280, 346, 356, 476 Trenary, Don, 49 Trzebiatowski, Florence, 356 Trzebiatowski, Jan, 453 Trzebiatowski, Pete, 131,381-382,454 Trzebiatowski, Wiktoria, 453 Tufts, Samuel, 333-335 Turner, Frederick Jackson, 15, 16 Turtle Lake, 139,332,337 Tuscobia,6 Two Creeks, 273, 432 Two Rivers, 458 Uhlig, Carl Friedrich, 277 Ukrainians, 340 Uncle Julius, 276 University of Wisconsin (Madison), 14, 16, 1922,25,26-27,49,85,134,140,144,148, 159,205,234,251,323,439,457,486 University of Wisconsin-Eau Claire, 89 University of Wisconsin-Green Bay, 362 University of Wisconsin-Stevens Point, 446 "Up North": arts and crafts, 431; clothing, 431; farmers, 220, 340, 342; foodways, 109; stereotypes, 12-13, 106-110 Upper Peninsula of Michigan, 10-11, 122, 133, 142,167,176,280,458 Urmanski, Sylvester, 159 Valberget, Gunnar, 155 Vandertie, Alfred, 362 Van Heiden, Phillip, 7 Vennum, Thomas,J~,24,25, 124, 126,389 Vermont, 435 Vernon County, 476, 477, 478, 479, 481, 482 Vetter, Emil "Junior," 465, 467, 468-469, 470 Viljamaa, Henry, 180 Viroqua, 265,267,476 Vogel, Virgil, 33 Wabeno, 6 Wabidosh, Joe, 123 Wagner, Babe, 277 Wagner, Elizabeth, 42-43 Walek, Mrs. Thomas, 160 Walker's Point, 279 Walloons. See Belgians Ware, Charles Pickard, 16 Washburn, 140, 371 Washington County, 276

541

Index Watertown, 40, 255 Watt, Homer A., 16, 140 Waunakee, 6,441, 444 Waupaca, 154 Waupaca County, 149, 150 Waupun, 8, 40 Wausau, 15, 106,200,274,277 Wausaukee, 277 Waushara County, 6 Webster, Louis, 191 Weddings: Czech, 273, 274, 381; German, 441; Norwegian, 157,265,267; Ojibwe, 311-312; Polish, 270-271, 281, 339-342, 381, 446; Swiss, 368, 369; mentioned, 186 Wells, Jay, 274 Wells, Dr. Robert, 290 Welsh: names, 36-39; place names, 36-39; song, 19,36,37,433; mentioned, 253 Welsh, F. M., 337 Wescott, Glenway, 25 West Allis, 40, 279 Westby, 265, 266, 267, 435, 476, 478, 483 Weyerhaeuser, 33, 339, 340 Whidden, Jack, 76 Wild Rose, 36 Wileden, A. F., 21 Wilfahrt, Whoopee John, 277 Willard, 272, 279, 281, 340 Williams, Curt, 474 Williams, David, 37 Williams, Eleazer, 344 Williams, John, 37 Wilmer, Keith, 122, 134-135 Winard, Jeff, 280 Winnebago. See Ho-Chunk Winnebago County, 36, 37 Winter: foodways, 10; games, 9; jokes, 10. See also Hunting and fishing (ice fishing) Wisconsin Agriculturalist, 433 Wisconsin Archeological Society (The Wisconsin Archeologist), 26, 27, 343, 396 Wisconsin Arts Board, 24, 25,124,260,284 Wisconsin Dells, 13, 113, 115 Wisconsin Ethnic Settlement Trail (W.E.S.T.), 24 Wisconsin Folklife Center, 260, 331 Wisconsin Folklore Project, 27, 72,80,372 Wisconsin Folklore Society, 27, 85 Wisconsin Folk Museum, 24, 25, 259, 268-269, 397,407,408,409 Wisconsin Humanities Council, 260, 268 Wisconsin Lumberjacks, the, 373 Wisconsin Magazine ofH,:story, 33, 139 Wisconsin Polka Boosters, 272 Wisconsin Public Radio. See Radio stations Wisconsin Rapids, 113

Wisconsin State Historical Museum, 26, 27 Wisconsin State Journal, 377 Wisconsin Trails, 433,435 Wittenburg, 113 Wojta, J. F., 432 Wojta, Jerome, 274 Wolf, John, 156 Woodland Indians: arts and crafts, 389-395; affected by Christian religions, 33, 35, 122, 133, 135, 136-137, 198,308,319,343; beliefs, 33, 35,390-391,392,394; dance, 18,24,25, 258; documentation by anthropologists, 17-18, 389; festivals, 24, 25, 191; folk medicine, 394-395; music, 18-19,389-395; myths, 27; names, 343; place names, 3, 6, 14, 18, 33-35; mentioned, 6, 23, 24. See also Ho-Chunk; Menominee; Mesquakie; Ojibwe; Oneida; Potawatomi; Stockbridge-Munsee Woodruff, 13 Woods, Dave, 346 Woods workers: arts and crafts, 72; clothing, 79; dance, 27, 163, 169, 373;foodways, 145-146, 435; games, 72, 78, 371, 372-375; jokes, 171; legends, 72-79, 159, 181,371; music, 27, 163,203,373; names, 72-79; occupational speech, 77,92,93,94,95,96,97,98,99, 100, 142, 200; practical jokes, 72, 73, 371, 372, 375-376; proverbs, 78; song and ballad, 15, 72, 78,200-218,371,372; storytelling, 26, 127, 132-133, 139-148, 153; mentioned, 20, 23, 122, 197-198,219, 200,260,269,308,332,396,476.Seea~0

Bunyan, Paul Works Progress Administration, 19, 27 Wright, Frank Lloyd, 25 Xiong, Joua Bee, 292-304 Xiong, Kao Neng, 295 Xiong, Kao Yia, 295 Yankees: antipathy toward "foreigners," 62, 251258,378; commercial fishers, 457; dance, 263; music, 257, 263; woods workers, 371; mentioned, 262, 367, 483-484 Yankovic, Frankie, 80, 279-280 Yeats, William Butler, 22 Yuba, 273-274, 352-355 Yurkovich, Richie, 280, 281 Zawacki, Edmund, 159-160 Zdrazil, Louie, 275 Zimmer, Nicole, 7 Zurawski, Greg, 270-271 Zygas, Egle, 397

542